LIBRARY 

OF   THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 

Deceived    ..71017-,. 
^Accessions  No.  ^.ifRQ  .  Class  No. 


GHAU7AUQUA  LIBRARY GARNET  SERIES. 


A    MEMOIR 


ROGER    ASCHAM. 

BY 

SAMUEL  JOHNSON,  LL.D. 
(ORIGINALLY  PUBLISHED  IN  LONDON  IN   1763.) 

WITH     AN     INTRODUCTION 

BY 

JAMES    H.  CARLISLE, 

PRESIDENT  OF  WOFFORD  COLLEGE,   SPARTANBURG,    S.C. 


NEW    YORK  : 

CHAUTAUQUA     PRESS, 

150  — 5th  AVENUE. 

1890. 


•&SJMtt*^ 


Copyright,  1890,  by  C.  W.  BARDEEN,  Syracuse,  N.  Y. 


ASCHAM   AND  ARNOLD. 


MEMOIR  OF  ROGER  ASCHAM,  -       pp.   1-54. 

MEMOIR  OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,        -       pp.   55-252. 


INTRODUCTION. 


ROGER  ASCHAM  (As'-kam)  has  a  claim  on  all  English- 
reading  people.  He  is  called,  by  the  best  critics,  one 
of  the  fathers  of  English  prose.  In  his  youth,  his 
native  language  had  no  great  work  in  poetry,  history, 
or  philosophy.  The  wonderful  art  of  printing  was  in 
its  infancy.  His  father  may  have  read  the  first  book 
printed  in  England  when  fresh  from  the  press.  Soon 
after  Ascham,  a  constellation  of  great  writers  adorned 
the  latter  years  of  Elizabeth's  reign.  At  his  death, 
Shakspeare  was  four  years  old,  Bacon  seven,  Sidney 
fourteen,  and  Spenser  sixteen. 

His  first  work,  "  TOXOPHILUS,"  published  in  his 
twenty-third  year,  was  a  defence  of  the  bow,  which 
he  looked  upon  as  furnishing  a  manly  recreation,  as 
well  as  a  national  defence,  to  Englishmen.  The  year 
of  publication,  1544,  was  the  date  when  pistols  were  first 
used  by  English  horsemen.  The  musket  was  first  used 
a  few  years  before,  1521.  Ascham  could  not  know 
that  these  strange  weapons  would  soon  come  to  be 
considered  as  the  strong  "  arms  "  of  English  soldiers. 
Three  years  after  "Toxophilus"  appeared,  bows  were 


2  INTRODUCTION. 

used  with  effect,  for  the  last  time,  on  the  field  of 
Pinkie,  where  the  Scotch  were  forced  to  give  way 
before  the  arrows  of  their  invaders.  As  a  pleasant 
recreation,  Archery,  at  intervals,  comes  into  fashion 
for  a  time,  as  it  did  with  us  a  few  years  ago.  The 
lovers  of  archery  show  their  gratitude  to  Ascham  by 
giving  his  name  to  the  closet  in  which  their  weapons 
are  kept. 

But  the  work  on  the  Bow  has  a  permanent  value  in 
our  history.  It  marks  an  era  in  the  growth  of  our 
language.  He  dedicated  it  to  his  king,  Henry  VIII., 
apologizing  for  writing  in  English,  and  offering  to  pre- 
pare a  Greek  or  Latin  version  if  desired.  He  says, 
"  To  have  written  in  another  tongue  had  been  more 
profitable  for  my  study,  and  more  honest  [honorable] 
for  my  name ;  yet  I  can  think  my  labour  well  bestowed, 
if,  with  a  little  hindrance  of  my  profit  and  name,  may 
come  any  furtherance  to  the  pleasure  or  commodity 
•of  the  gentlemen  and  yeomen  of  England.  As  for  the 
Latin  or  Greek  tongue,  every  thing  is  so  excellently 
•done  in  them,  that  none  can  do  better ;  in  the  English 
tongue,  contrary,  every  thing  in  a  manner  so  meanly 
doth  for  the  matter  and  handling,  that  no  man  can  do 
worse" 

This  little  book,  on  two  occasions,  turned  the  cur- 
rent of  the  author's  life.  Henry  was  graciously  pleased 
to  reward  him  on  its  first  appearance ;  and  a  few  years 
later,  Edward  renewed  his  pension  for  its  sake.  His 
"  Report  and  Discourse  of  the  Affairs  of  Germany  "  is 
the  only  other  work  published  in  his  lifetime. 


INTRODUCTION.  3 

Ascham  has  an  additional  claim  on  all  who  are  inter- 
ested in  educational  literature.  He  is  the  first  who 
wrote  in  our  language  on  such  subjects.  He  left,  in 
manuscript,  an  unfinished  work,  "THE  SCHOLEMASTER," 
which  was  published  by  his  widow  in  1570.  Extracts 
from  this  book,  and  the  "  Preface  to  the  Reader,"  will 
be  given  in  another  chapter.  It  has  had  a  rather  sin- 
gular history.  Within  twenty  years  of  the  author's 
death,  five  editions  were  issued.  For  more  than  a 
century  it  was  then  strangely  overlooked.  In  1711 
Rev.  James  Upton  published  an  edition  of  "The 
Schole master,"  with  explanatory  notes.  Again,  in 
1 743,  Upton  issued  another  edition,  "  revised  a  second 
time,  and  much  improved."  In  1763  the  "English 
Works  of  Roger  Ascham  "  were  published  in  London 
by  James  Bennet  as  editor.  For  this  edition,  Dr. 
Samuel  Johnson  wrote  a  memoir  of  the  author.  This 
is  so  good  a  specimen  of  the  great  Doctor's  peculiar 
style,  and  is  so  instructive  every  way,  that  it  is  now 
republished  entire. 

There  is  something  to  interest  the  general  reader  in 
this  brief  record  of  a  life,  which  had  connection,  more 
or  less  intimate,  with  four  successive  English  sover- 
eigns,—  Henry  VIII.,  Edward  VI,  Mary,  and  Eliza- 
beth. Under  the  last  three,  he  held  the  post  of  Latin 
secretary,  an  honorable  office,  like  that  which  Milton 
held  under  Cromwell  a  century  later.  While  doing 
much  to  give  beauty  and  force  to  his  own  language,  he 
was  a  passionate  lover  of  Latin  and  Greek.  Dr. 
Johnson  bears  testimony  to  Ascham's  skill  in  the 


4  INTRODUCTION. 

manual  art  of  writing.  His  successors  in  the  "  schole- 
room  "  should  avoid  the  two  opposite  mistakes  that 
may  be  easily  made  in  this  matter.  To  be  a  "  good 
scribe  "  is  not  the  only  qualification  needed  in  a  teacher. 
Yet  to  write  legibly  is  not  so  trifling  an  accomplish- 
ment that  it  may  be  neglected.  Do  not  schools  and 
colleges  in  our  day  dismiss  many  pupils  untaught  in 
this  elementary  part  of  a  common  education  ? 

Very  much  of  the  scholarship  of  that  day  consisted 
in  the  study  of  Latin,  and  especially  of  Greek,  then 
becoming  fashionable  in  literary  circles.  It  is  difficult 
for  us  to  conceive  the  interest  with  which  scholars 
then  discussed  the  question  of  admitting  this  new 
study,  and  the  true  pronunciation  of  the  alphabet. 
Wade,  in  his  "  British  History,' '  says,  "  Many,  both  of 
the  secular  and  regular  clergy,  railed  against  the  Greek 
Testament  of  Erasmus  as  an  impious  and  dangerous 
book.  At  Oxford  they  were  divided  into  factions,  — 
one  assuming  the  name  of  Greeks,  the  other  of 
Trojans.  As  the  Trojans  were  the  most  numerous, 
they  were  the  most  insolent.  When  a  poor  Greek 
appeared  in  the  street  in  any  public  place,  he  was 
attacked  by  the  Trojans  with  hisses,  taunts,  and  insults 
of  all  kinds.  But  the  triumphs  of  the  Trojans  were 
of  short  duration.  Henry  VIII.  and  Wolsey  having 
warmly  espoused  the  cause  of  the  Greeks,  their  num- 
bers, their  credit,  and  their  courage  daily  increased : 
the  Greek  language  became  a  favorite  study,  and  the 
Trojans  were  obliged  to  retire  from  the  field.'1  Ascham 
left  no  original  work  in  Greek  or  Latin,  not  even  a 


INTRODUCTION.  5 

new  edition  of  a  favorite  classical  author.  Still,  he 
was  an  enthusiastic  reader  and  teacher  of  the  classics 
all  through  life.  He  was  the  tutor  of  Elizabeth  in  her 
early  years,  when  she  scarcely  expected  to  reach  the 
throne.  After  her  accession  it  was  very  honorable  to 
both  parties  that  she  invited  her  old  teacher  to  come 
and  still  direct  her  studies.  He  read  with  her  most 
of  the  works  of  Cicero,  the  greater  portion  of  Livy, 
select  portions  of  Isocrates,  the  Tragedies  of  Sophocles, 
the  Greek  Testament,  and  other  works.  She  wrote 
several  volumes,  which  show  her  skill  as  a  linguist. 
When  she  visited  Oxford,  she  readily  replied  in  Latin 
to  a  learned  address  of  welcome.  Her  teacher  says, 
"  I  learn  more  from  her  than  she  from  me :  I  teach 
her  words,  while  she  teaches  me  things."  It  is  prob- 
able that  some  of  the  milder  traits  that  throw  a  redeem- 
ing light  on  the  strong  character  of  the  imperious  Virgin 
Queen  were  due  to  the  influence  of  her  teacher. 

As  to  his  manner  of  teaching,  we  know  nothing,  ex- 
cept as  he  has  explained  it  in  his  treatise.  With  his 
scholarship  and  enthusiasm,  and  with  such  pupils  as 
he  usually  had,  he  could  do  good  work,  with  any  plan, 
or  in  the  absence  of  a  plan.  The  transition  from  a 
teacher  in  the  sixteenth  century,  with  a  few  noble 
pupils,  to  the  teacher  in  the  nineteenth  century,  ruling 
forty  little  "  sovereigns  "  in  this  New  World,  is  very 
great.  Yet  there  are  lessons  in  Ascham's  life  for  us. 
He  was  happy  in  his  work.  When  absent  in  Ger- 
many, he  looked  back  longingly  to  his  work  at  home. 
His  views  on  discipline  were  far  in  advance  of  his 


0  INTRODUCTION. 

time.  His  genial,  sympathetic  spirit  furnishes  some 
good  lessons  to  the  teachers  of  to-day.  He  received 
only  a  moderate  salary,  and  doubtless  he  had  to  prac- 
tise economy,  not  an  easy  thing  in  a  court.  He  was 
unselfish.  If  extravagant,  it  was  not  in  dress,  or  style 
of  living,  but  in  buying  books.  He  once  offered  to 
commute  a  part  of  his  "  fees  "  for  an  old  classical 
book.  "  He  was  ready  to  assist  students  with  advice, 
and  generous  to  poor  scholars,"  said  a  contemporary. 
This  short  sentence  may  open  a  wide  door  of  useful- 
ness to  the  teacher  with  a  scanty  income.  Sympathy 
and  kindness  may  do  much  good  with  little  money. 
The  old  teacher  was  not  above  the  professional  weak- 
ness of  boasting  about  his  distinguished  pupils.  Let 
the  American  schoolmaster  who  can  keep  his  republi- 
can humility  when  several  pupils  have  reached  titles 
and  crowns,  prepare  to  cast  a  stone  !  He  was  grate- 
ful to  his  old  teachers.  He  often  refers  kindly  to  his 
illustrious  "  master,  John  Cheke."  About  another  of 
his  teachers  he  says  something  worth  quoting  for  the 
reader  :  "  Doctor  Nico  Medcalfe,  that  honourable  father, 
was  Master  of  S.  John's  College  when  I  came  thither ; 
a  man  meanly  learned  himself,  but  not  meanly  affec- 
tioned  to  set  forward  learning  in  others.  .  .  .  Truly 
he  was  partial  to  none,  but  impartial  to  all ;  a  master 
for  the  whole,  a  father  to  every  one  in  that  College. 
There  was  none  so  poor,  if  he  had  either  will  in  good- 
ness, or  wit  to  learning,  that  could  lacke  being  there, 
or  should  depart  from  thence  for  any  need.  I  am  wit- 
ness myself,  that  money  many  times  was  brought  into 


INTRO  D  UCTION.  7 

young  men's  studies  by  strangers  whom  they  knew  not. 
...  I  myself,  one  of  the  meanest  of  a  great  number 
in  that  College,  because  there  appeared  in  me  some 
small  show  of  towardness  and  diligence,  lacked  not 
his  favour  to  further  me  in  learning."  And  thus,  a 
man,  himself  "meanly  furnished  with  knowledge," 
may  kindle  the  torch  of  a  young  Ascham  :  the  stream 
of  learning  may  rise  above  its  source.  This  is  an  in- 
spiring thought  to  the  earnest  teacher. 

As  a  man,  there  is  much  in  him  to  excite  our  inter- 
est, and  even  our  admiration.  The  reigns  of  his  four 
monarchs  span  an  eventful  period  of  history.  The 
faithful  teacher  passed  through  it,  in  the  main,  un- 
tainted. He  knew  how  to  close  eyes  and  ears  when 
necessary.  He  served  his  pupil  and  his  queen,  hold- 
ing this  double,  delicate  relation,  and  meeting  all  its 
most  exacting  demands.  He  did  not  beg  or  fawn.  He 
was  grateful,  but  not  obsequious,  to  patrons.  He  re- 
spected alike  himself  and  his  sovereign.  We  may 
regret  that  an  excessive  caution,  or  indolence,  hindered 
his  pen  from  doing  all  the  service  it  was  so  able  to 
render.  His  diary,  kept  through  these  critical  years, 
would  now  be  a  great  treasure  to  the  lover  of  minute 
history,  and  to  the  student  of  human  nature.  No 
gossip  or  intrigue  is  associated  with  the  memory  of 
Elizabeth's  teacher.  The  public  history  of  her  reign 
could  be  written  without  alluding  to  his  name,  perhaps. 
It  is  true,  unfortunately,  that  he  did  not  move  the 
Queen  to  any  great  liberality  towards  schools  or  schol- 
ars. She  endowed  Dublin  University  and  Westminster 


8  INTRODUCTION. 

School.  Her  long  reign  shows  no  other  benefaction 
to  institutions  of  learning.  But  Aschara  did  not  ad- 
vance his  own  interests  by  her  affection  for  him.  The 
associate  of  nobles  and  monarchs  all  through  his  pub- 
lic life,  he  died  poor,  leaving  his  children  no  legacy 
but  his  fame,  and  the  unfinished  manuscript  of  "  The 
Scholemaster."  Dr.  Johnson  very  delicately  alludes 
to  his  love  of  gaming.  It  is  quite  probable,  that,  in 
this  matter,  he  did  not  rise  above  the  customs  of  the 
day.  A  contemporary  historian,  after  describing  the 
baiting  of  bulls  and  bears,  adds,  "To  this  entertain- 
ment, there  follows  that  of  whipping  a  blinded  bear, 
which  is  performed  by  five  or  six  men,  standing  circu- 
larly with  whips,  which  they  exercise  on  him  without 
mercy,  as  he  cannot  escape  from  them,  because  of  his 
chain.  He  defends  himself  with  all  his  force  and 
skill,  throwing  them  down  that  come  within  his  reach, 
and  not  active  enough  to  get  out  of  it,  and  tearing 
their  whips  out  of  their  hands,  and  breaking  them." 
The  Queen  encouraged  such  sports.  Here  is  the  pro- 
gramme for  a  few  days,  from  the  "Sidney  Papers:" 
"This  day  she  appoints  a  Frenchman  to  doe  feats 
upon  a  rope  in  the  conduit-yard ;  to-morrow,  she  has 
commanded  the  bears,  the  bulls,  and  the  apes  to  be 
bayted  in  the  tilt-yard ;  and,  on  Wednesday,  she  will 
have  solemne  dauncing."  Among  the  offices  she  con- 
ferred on  her  favorite  teacher,  was  that  of  her  "  bear- 
keeper,"  —  not  altogether  a  sinecure,  it  is  to  be  feared. 
In  such  an  age,  we  cannot  imagine  that  all  the  dice- 
throwing  and  card-playing  were  "  just  for  fun."  Man- 


INTRODUCTION.  9 

ners  and  morals  were  at  a  low  ebb  in  some  respects. 
Let  us  try  to  imagine  a  "  bear-baiting  in  the  tilt-yard  " 
of  Windsor  Palace,  honored  by  the  presence  of  the 
noble  woman  who  to-day  sits  on  Elizabeth's  throne. 
We  readily  see  that  the  three  centuries  between  the 
two  queens  have  witnessed  some  changes.  Vinet  says, 
"The  conscience  of  humanity  never  restores  any  of 
its  conquests."  The  friends  of  "humanity"  should 
neither  despond,  nor  be  very  sanguine. 

While  throwing  the  veil  of  charity  over  the  recrea- 
tions of  the  courtly  schoolmaster,  we  may  be  interested 
01  amused  at  the  coloring  which  they  occasionally  give 
tc  his  style.  Thus,  in  the  posthumous  treatise,  he  says, 
"I  dare  venture  a  good  wager,"  etc.  Again,  "  I  have 
been  a  looker-on  in  the  cock-pit  of  learning  these 
many  years."  Let  us,  however,  follow  the  advice  of 
Dr.  Johnson,  and  think  of  the  learning,  virtues,  and  ex- 
cellences of  Ascham,  rather  than  of  the  frailties  of  his 
age.  which  he  shared.  Even  his  gaming  does  not  seem 
to  have  familiarized  him  with  debts  or  dishonor.  In 
an  aje  of  persecution  and  bloodshed,  there  is  no  stain 
on  ms  memory.  At  a  time  of  religious  bigotry,  he 
kept  Hs  consistency  and  the  respect  of  all  parties  to 
an  unusual  degree.  He  was  a  lover  of  peace,  good 
men,  and  good  books.  As  far  as  can  be  known,  his 
language  and  his  life  were  pure.  Such  outward  tests 
of  a  religous  character  as  can  be  applied,  place  him 
in  a  favonble  light.  "  His  conversation  had  a  strain 
of  unaffected  piety  in  it,  and  he  was  regular  in  his  pri- 
vate devotions.  The  topics  of  discussion  among  his 


IO  INTRODUCTION. 

friends  were  of  God ;  the  iniquity  and  malice  of  man- 
kind ;  the  effects  of  God's  benevolence  towards  them  ; 
the  grand  designs  of  Providence,  to  lead  men  to  their 
greatest  and  ultimate  happiness."  Such  is  the  testi- 
mony of  one  who  knew  him  well.  He  died  in  his  fifty- 
third  year,  —  about  the  age  to  which  Shakspeare  at- 
tained. Elizabeth  gave  a  characteristic  proof  of  her 
regret,  by  saying,  "  I  would  rather  have  thrown  ten 
thousand  pounds  into  the  sea,  than  lose  my  Ascham." 
His  learned  contemporary,  George  Buchanan  of  Scot- 
land, wrote  an  "  Epigram,"  which  may  stand  as  a  just 
estimate  of  the  man. 

"  Aschamum  extinctum  patriae  Graiae  Camenae 
Et  Latinae  vera  cum  pietate  dolent. 
Principibus  vixit  carus,  jucundus  amicis, 
Re  modica ;  in  mores  dicere  fama  nequit." 

It  has  been  freely  translated  thus  :  — 

"  His  country's  Muses  join  with  those  of  Greece 
And  mighty  Rome  to  mourn  the  fate  of  Ascham. 
Dear  to  his  Prince,  and  valued  by  his  friends, 
Content  with  humble  views,  thro'  life  he  passed  r 
While  envy's  self  ne'er  dared  to  blast  his  name/ 

JAS.    H.   CARLISLE. 

SPARTANBURG,  S.C.,  April  13,  1886. 


OF 

TJHIVERSITT 


ROGER  ASCHAM. 

BY  SAMUEL  JOHNSON,  LL.D. 


CHAPTER   I. 

IT  often  happens  to  writers,  that  they  are  known, 
only  by  their  works ;  the  incidents  of  a  literary  life 
are  seldom  observed,  and  therefore  seldom  recounted  : . 
but  Ascham  has  escaped  the  common  fate  by  the 
friendship  of  Edward  Graunt,  the  learned  master  of 
Westminster  school,  who  devoted  an  oration  to  his, 
memory,  and  has  marked  the  various  vicissitudes  of 
his  fortune.  Graunt  either  avoided  the  labor  of  mi- 
nute inquiry,  or  thought  domestic  occurrences  unworthy 
of  his  notice  ;  or,  preferring  the  character  of  an  orator 
to  that  of  an  historian,  selected  only  such  particulars 
as  he  could  best  express  or  most  happily  embellish. 
His  narrative  is  therefore  scanty,  and  I  know  not  by 
what  materials  it  can  now  be  amplified. 

ROGER  ASCHAM  was  born  in  the  year  1515,  at  Kirby 
Wiske  (or  Kirby  Wicke),  a  village  near  Northallerton, 
in  Yorkshire,  of  a  family  above  the  vulgar.  His  father, 


12  ROGER  ASCHAM. 

John  Ascham,  was  house-steward  in  the  family  of 
Scroop,  and  in  that  age,  when  the  different  orders 
of  men  were  at  a  greater  distance  from  each  other,  and 
the  manners  of  gentlemen  were  regularly  formed  by 
menial  services  in  great  houses,  lived  with  a  very  con- 
.spicuous  reputation.  Margaret  Ascham,  his  wife,  is 
said  to  be  allied  to  many  considerable  families ;  but 
her  maiden  name  is  not  recorded.  She  had  three 
sons,  of  whom  Roger  was  the  youngest,  and  some 
daughters ;  but  who  can  hope,  that,  of  any  progeny, 
more  than  one  shall  deserve  to  be  mentioned?  They 
lived  married  sixty-seven I  years,  and  at  last  died  to- 
.gether,  almost  on  the  same  hour  of  the  same  day. 

Roger,  having  passed  his  first  years  under  the  care 
of  his  parents,  was  adopted  into  the  family  of  Antony 
Wingfield,  who  maintained  him,  and  committed  his 
education,  with  that  of  his  own  sons,  to  the  care  of 
one  Bond,  a  domestic  tutor.  He  very  early  discovered 
an  unusual  fondness  for  literature  by  an  eager  perusal 
of  English  books,  and,  having  passed  happily  through 
the  scholastic  rudiments,  was  put,  in  1530,  by  his 
.patron,  Wingfield,  to  St.  John's  College,  in  Cambridge. 

Ascham  entered  Cambridge  at  a  time  when  the  last 
.great  revolution  of  the  intellectual  world  was  filling 
every  academical  mind  with  ardor  or  anxiety.  The 
destruction  of  the  Constantinopolitan  empire  had 
driven  the  Greeks  with  their  language  into  the  interior 
parts  of  Europe.  The  art  of  printing  had  made  the 
tbooks  easily  attainable,  and  the  Greek  now  began  to 

1  Other  authorities  say  forty-seven.  —  C. 


ROGER  ASCHAM.  IJ 

be  taught  in  England.  The  doctrines  of  Luther  had 
already  filled  all  the  nations  of  the  Romish  communion 
with  controversy  and  dissension.  New  studies  of  lit- 
erature, and  new  tenets  of  religion,  found  employment 
for  all  who  were  desirous  of  truth,  or  ambitious  of 
fame.  Learning  was  at  that  time  prosecuted  with  that 
eagerness  and  perseverance  which  in  this  age  of  indif- 
ference and  dissipation  it  is  not  easy  to  conceive.  To- 
teach  or  to  learn,  was  at  once  the  business  and  the 
pleasure  of  the  academical  life ;  and  an  emulation  of 
study  was  raised  by  Cheke  and  Smith,  to  which  even 
the  present  age,  perhaps,  owes  many  advantages,  with- 
out remembering  or  knowing  its  benefactors. 

Ascham  soon  resolved  to  unite  himself  to  those  who 
were  enlarging  the  bounds  of  knowledge,  and,  im- 
mediately upon  his  admission  into  the  college,  applied 
himself  to  the  study  of  Greek.  Those  who  were  zeal- 
ous for  the  new  learning,  were  often  no  great  friends 
to  the  old  religion  ;  and  Ascham,  as  he  became  a  Gre- 
cian, became  a  Protestant.  The  Reformation  was  not 
yet  begun  :  disaffection  to  Popery  was  considered  as  a 
crime  justly  punished  by  exclusion  from  favor  and  pre- 
ferment, and  was  not  yet  openly  professed,  though 
superstition  was  gradually  losing  its  hold  upon  the 
public.  The  study  of  Greek  was  reputable  enough, 
and  Ascham  pursued  it  with  diligence  and  success 
equally  conspicuous.  He  thought  a  language  might 
be  most  easily  learned  by  teaching  it,  and,  when  he 
had  obtained  some  proficiency  in  Greek,  read  lectures, 
while  he  was  yet  a  boy,  to  other  boys,  who  were  desir- 


14  ROGER  ASCHAM. 

•  ous  of  instruction.  His  industry  was  much  encouraged 
by  Pember,  a  man  of  great  eminence  at  that  time ; 
though  I  know  not  that  he  has  left  any  monuments 
behind  him,  but  what  the  gratitude  of  his  friends  and 
•scholars  has  bestowed.  He  was  one  of  the  great  en- 
courage rs  of  Greek  learning,  and  particularly  applaud- 
ed Ascham's  lectures,  assuring  him,  in  a  letter,  of 
which  Graunt  has  preserved  an  extract,  that  he  would 
gain  more  knowledge  by  explaining  one  of  ^Esop's 
fables  to  a  boy,  than  by  hearing  one  of  Homer's  poems 
-explained  by  another. 

Ascham  took  his  bachelor's  degree  in  1534  (Feb. 
1 8),  in  the  eighteenth  year  of  his  age,  —  a  time  df  life 
at  which  it  is  more  common  now  to  enter  the  universi- 
ties than  to  take  degrees,  but  which,  according  to  the 
modes  of  education  then  in  use,  had  nothing  of  re- 
markable prematurity.  On  the  23d  of  March  follow- 
ing, he  was  chosen  fellow  of  the  college,  which  election 
he  considered  as  a  second  birth.  Dr.  Metcalf,  the 
master  of  the  college,  a  man,  as  Ascham  tells  us, 
v"  meanly  learned  himself,  but  no  mean  encourager  of 
learning  in  others,"  clandestinely  promoted  his  elec- 
tion, though  he  openly  seemed  first  to  oppose  it,  and 
afterwards  to  censure  it,  because  Ascham  was  known 
to  favor  the  new  opinions ;  and  the  master  himself 
was  accused  of  giving  an  unjust  preference  to  the 
Northern  men,  one  of  the  factions  into  which  this 
nation  was  divided,  before  we  could  find  any  more 
important  reason  of  dissension,  than  that  some  were 
born  on  the  northern  and  some  on  the  southern  side 


ROGER  ASCHAM.  15 

of  Trent.  Any  cause  is  sufficient  for  a  quarrel ;  and 
the  zealots  of  the  north  and  south  lived  long  in  such 
animosity,  that  it  was  thought  necessary  at  Oxford  to 
keep  them  quiet  by  choosing  one  proctor  every  year 
from  each. 

He  seems  to  have  been  hitherto  supported  by  the 
bounty  of  Wingfield,  which  his  attainment  of  a  fellow- 
ship now  freed  him  from  the  necessity  of  receiving. 
Dependence,  though  in  those  days  it  was  more  com- 
mon, and  less  irksome,  than  in  the  present  state  of 
things,  qan  never  have  been  free  from  discontent ;  and 
therefore  he  that  was  released  from  it  must  always  have 
rejoked.  The  danger  is,  lest  the  joy  of  escaping  from 
the  patron  may  not  leave  sufficient  memory  of  the 
benefactor.  Of  this  forgetfulness,  Ascham  cannot  be 
accused ;  for  he  is  recorded  to  have  preserved  the  most 
grateful  and  affectionate  reverence  for  Wingfield,  and 
to  have  never  grown  weary  of  recounting  his  benefits. 

His  reputation  still  increased,  and  many  resorted  to 
his  chamber  to  hear  the  Greek  writers  explained.  He 
was  likewise  eminent  for  other  accomplishments.  By 
the  advice  of  Pember,  he  had  learned  to  play  oh  musi- 
cal instruments ;  and  he  was  one  of  the  few  who  ex- 
celled in  the  mechanical  art  of  writing,  which  then 
began  to  be  cultivated  among  us,  and  in  which  we  now 
surpass  all  other  nations.  He  not  only  wrote  his  pages 
with  neatness,  but  embellished  them  with  elegant 
draughts  and  illuminations,  —  an  art  at  that  time  so 
highly  valued,  that  it  contributed  much,  both  to  his 
fame  and  his  fortune. 


OF 


oar 


1 6  ROGER  ASCHAM. 

He  became  Master  of  Arts  in  March,  1537,  in  his 
twenty-first  year,  and  then,  if  not  before,  commenced 
tutor,  and  publicly  undertook  the  education  of  young 
men.  A  tutor  of  one  and  twenty,  however  accom- 
plished with  learning,  however  exalted  by  genius,  would 
now  gain  little  reverence  or  obedience ;  but  in  those 
days  of  discipline  and  regularity,  the  authority  of  the 
statutes  easily  supplied  that  of  the  teacher ;  all  power 
that  was  lawful  was  reverenced.  Besides,  young  tutors 
had  still  younger  pupils. 

Ascham  is  said  to  have  courted  his  scholars  to  study 
by  every  incitement,  to  have  treated  them  with  great 
kindness,  and  to  have  taken  care  at  once  to  instil  learn- 
ing and  piety,  to  enlighten  their  minds,  and  to  form 
their  manners.  Many  of  his  scholars  rose  to  great 
eminence ;  and  among  them  William  Grindal  was  so 
much  distinguished,  that,  by  Cheke's  recommendation, 
he  was  called  to  court  as  a  proper  master  of  languages 
for  the  Lady  Elizabeth. 

There  was  yet  no  established  lecturer  of  Greek: 
the  university  therefore  appointed  Ascham  to  read  in 
the  open  schools,  and  paid  him  out  of  the  public  purse 
.an  honorary  stipend,  such  as  was  then  reckoned  suffi- 
ciently liberal.  A  lecture  was  afterwards  founded  by 
King  Henry;  and  he  then  quitted  the  schools,  but 
continued  to  explain  Greek  authors  in  his  own  college. 

He  was  at  first  an  opponent  of  the  new  pronuncia- 
tion introduced,  or  rather  of  the  ancient  restored,  about 
this  time  by  Cheke  and  Smith,  and  made  some  cau- 
tious struggles  for  the  common  practice,  which  the 


ROGER   ASCHAM.  I/ 

credit  and  dignity  of  his  antagonists  did  not  permit 
him  to  defend  very  publicly,  or  with  much  vehemence  : 
nor  were  they  long  his  antagonists ;  for  either  his  affec- 
tion for  their  merit,  or  his  conviction  of  the  cogency 
of  their  arguments,  soon  changed  his  opinion  and  his 
practice,  and  he  adhered  ever  after  to  their  method  of 
utterance. 

Of  this  controversy  it  is  not  necessary  to  give  a  cir- 
cumstantial account ;  something  of  it  may  be  found  ia 
Strype's  "Life  of  Smith,"  and  something  in  Baker's 
"  Reflections  upon  Learning :  "  it  is  sufficient  to  re- 
mark here,  that  Cheke's  pronunciation  was  that  which 
now  prevails  in  the  schools  of  England.  Disquisitions 
not  only  verbal,  but  merely  literal,  are  too  minute  for 
popular  narration. 

He  was  not  less  eminent  as  a  writer  of  Latin,  than, 
as  a  teacher  of  Greek.  All  the  public  letters  of  the 
university  were  of  his  composition ;  and  as  little  quali- 
fications  must  often  bring  great  abilities  into  notice,  he 
was  recommended  to  this  honorable  employment,  not 
less  by  the  neatness  of  his  hand,  than  the  elegance  of 
his  style. 

However  great  was  his  learning,  he  was  not  always 
immured  in  his  chamber,  but  being  valetudinary,  and 
weak  of  body,  thought  it  necessary  to  spend  many 
hours  in  such  exercises  as  might  best  relieve  him  after 
the  fatigue  of  study.  His  favorite  amusement  was 
archery,  in  which  he  spent,  or,  in  the  opinion  of  others, 
lost,  so  much  time,  that  those  whom  either  his  faults 
or  virtues  made  his  enemies,  and  perhaps  some  whose 


1 8  ROGER  ASCHAM. 

kindness  wished  him  always  worthily  employed,  did 
not  scruple  to  censure  his  practice,  as  unsuitable  to 
a  man  professing  learning,  and  perhaps  of  bad  exam- 
ple in  a  place  of  education. 

To  free  himself  from  this  censure  was  one  of  the 
reasons  for  which  he  published,  in  1544,  his  "Tox- 
ophilus,  or  the  Schole  or  Partitions  of  Shooting,"  in 
which  he  joins  the  praise  with  the  precepts  of  archery. 
He  designed  not  only  to  teach  the  art  of  shooting,  but 
to  give  an  example  of  diction  more  natural  and  more 
truly  English  than  was  used  by  the  common  writers 
of  that  age,  whom  he  censures  for  mingling  exotic 
terms  with  their  native  language,  and  of  whom  he 
complains  that  they  were  made  authors,  not  by  skill 
or  education,  but  by  arrogance  and  temerity. 

He  has  not  failed  in  either  of  his  purposes.  He 
has  sufficiently  vindicated  archery  as  an  innocent,  salu- 
tary, useful,  and  liberal  diversion ;  and  if  his  precepts 
are  of  no  great  use,  he  has  only  shown,  by  one  exam- 
ple among  many,  how  little  the  hand  can  derive  from 
the  mind,  how  little  intelligence  can  conduce  to  dex- 
terity. In  every  art,  practice  is  much  :  in  arts  manual, 
practice  is  almost  the  whole.  Precept  can  at  most 
but  warn  against  error  :  it  can  never  bestow  excellence. 

The  bow  has  been  so  long  disused,  that  most  Eng- 
lish readers  have  forgotten  its  importance,  though  it 
was  the  weapon  by  which  we  gained  the  battle  of 
Agincourt, — a  weapon  which,  when  handled  by  English 
yeomen,  no  foreign  troops  were  able  to  resist.  We 
were  not  only  abler  of  body  than  the  French,  and 


ROGER  ASCHAM.  IQ 

therefore  superior  in  the  use  of  arms,  which  are  forci- 
ble only  in  proportion  to  the  strength  with  which  they 
are  handled,  but  the  national  practice  of  shooting  for 
pleasure  or  for  prizes,  by  which  every  man  was  inured 
to  archery  from  his  infancy,  gave  us  insuperable  ad- 
vantage, the  bow  requiring  more  practice  to  skilful  use 
than  any  other  instrument  of  offence. 

Fire-arms  were  then  in  their  infancy ;  and  though 
battering-pieces  had  been  some  time  in  use,  I  know 
not  whether  any  soldiers  were  armed  with  hand-guns 
when  the  "Toxophilus"  was  first  published.  They 
were  soon  after  used  by  the  Spanish  troops,  whom 
other  nations  made  haste  to  imitate ;  but  how  little 
they  could  yet  effect  will  be  understood  from  the  ac- 
count given  by  the  ingenious  author  of  the  "  Exercise 
for  the  Norfolk  Militia." 

"  The  first  muskets  were  very  heavy,  and  could  not  be  fired 
without  a  rest:  they  had  matchlocks,  and  barrels  of  a  wide 
bore,  that  carried  a  large  ball  and  charge  of  powder,  and  did 
execution  at  a  greater  distance. 

"  The  musketeers  on  a  march  carried  only  their  rests  and 
ammunition,  and  had  boys  to  bear  their  muskets  after  them, 
for  which  they  were  allowed  great  additional  pay. 

"  They  were  very  slow  in  loading,  not  only  by  reason  of  the 
unwieldiness  of  the  pieces,  and  because  they  carried  the  powder 
and  balls  separate,  but  from  the  time  it  took  to  prepare  and 
adjust  the  match ;  so  that  their  fire  was  not  near  so  brisk  as 
ours  is  now.  Afterwards  a  lighter  kind  of  matchlock  musket 
came  into  use :  and  they  carried  their  ammunition  in  bandeliers, 
which  were  broad  belts  that  came  over  the  shoulder,  to  which 
were  hung  several  little  cases  of  wood  covered  with  leather, 
each  containing  a  charge  of  powder;  the  balls  they  carried 


2O  ROGER  ASCHAM. 

loose  in  a  pouch ;  and  they  had  also  a  priming-horn  hanging 
by  their  side. 

"  The  old  English  writers  call  those  large  muskets  calivers : 
the  harquebuze  was  a  lighter  piece,  that  could  be  fired  without 
a  rest.  The  matchlock  was  fired  by  a  match  fixed  by  a  kind 
of  tongs  in  the  serpentine,  or  cock,  which,  by  pulling  the  trig- 
ger, was  brought  down  with  great  quickness  upon  the  priming 
in  the  pan,  over  which  there  was  a  sliding  cover,  which  was 
drawn  back  by  the  hand  just  at  the  time  of  firing.  There  was 
a  great  deal  of  nicety  and  care  required  to  fit  the  match  prop- 
erly to  the  cock,  so  as  to  come  down  exactly  true  on  the  priming, 
to  blow  the  ashes  from  the  coal,  and  to  guard  the  pan  from 
the  sparks  that  fell  from  it.  A  great  deal  of  time  was  also  lost 
in  taking  it  out  of  the  cock,  and  returning  it  between  the  fin- 
gers of  the  left  hand  every  time  that  the  piece  was  fired ;  and 
wet  weather  often  rendered  the  matches  useless." 

While  this  was  the  state  of  fire-arms,  — and  this  state 
continued  among  us  to  the  civil  war  with  very  little 
improvement,  —  it  is  no  wonder  that  the  long-bow  was 
preferred  by  Sir  Thomas  Smith,  who  wrote  of  the 
choice  of  weapons  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth, 
when  the  use  of  the  bow  still  continued,  though  the 
musket  was  gradually  prevailing.  Sir  John  Hayward, 
a  writer  yet  later,  has,  in  his  history  of  the  Norman 
kings,  endeavored  to  evince  the  superiority  of  the 
archer  to  the  musketeer :  however,  in  the  long  peace 
of  King  James,  the  bow  was  wholly  forgotten.  Guns 
have  from  that  time  been  the  weapons  of  the  English, 
as  of  other  nations,  and,  as  they  are  now  improved, 
are  certainly  more  efficacious. 

Ascham  had  yet  another  reason,  if  not  for  writing 
his  book,  at  least  for  presenting  it  to  King  Henry. 


ROGER   ASCHAM.  21 

England  was  not  then  what  it  may  be  now  justly 
termed,  the  capital  of  literature ;  and  therefore,  those 
who  aspired  to  superior  degrees  of  excellence  thought 
it  necessary  to  travel  into  other  countries.  The  purse 
of  Ascham  was  not  equal  to  the  expense  of  peregrina- 
tion, and  therefore  he  hoped  to  have  it  augmented  by  a 
pension.  Nor  was  he  wholly  disappointed,  for  the  king 
rewarded  him  with  a  yearly  payment  of  ten  pounds. 

A  pension  of  ten  pounds,  granted  by  a  king  of  Eng- 
land to  a  man  of  letters,  appears  to  modern  readers  so 
contemptible  a  benefaction,  that  it  is  not  unworthy 
of  inquiry  what  might  be  its  value  at  that  time,  and 
how  much  Ascham  might  be  enriched  by  it.  Nothing 
is  more  uncertain  than  the  estimation  of  wealth  by 
denominated  money ;  the  precious  metals  never  retain 
long  the  same  proportion  to  real  commodities,  and 
the  same  names  in  different  ages  do  not  imply  the 
same  quantity  of  metal ;  so  that  it  is  equally  difficult 
to  know  how  much  money  was  contained  in  any  nomi- 
nal sum,  and  to  find  what  any  supposed  quantity  of 
gold  or  silver  would  purchase,  both  which  are  neces- 
sary to  the  commensuration  of  money,  or  the  adjust- 
ment of  proportion  between  the  same  sums  at  different 
periods  of  time. 

A  numeral  pound  in  King  Henry's  time  contained, 
as  now,  twenty  shillings ;  and  therefore  it  must  be  in- 
quired what  twenty  shillings .  could  perform.  Bread- 
corn  is  the  most  certain  standard  of  the  necessaries  of 
life.  Wheat  was  generally  sold  at  that  time  for  one 
shilling  the  bushel :  if,  therefore,  we  take  five  shillings 


22  ROGER  ASCHAM. 

the  bushel  for  the  current  price,  ten  pounds  were 
equivalent  to  fifty.  But  here  is  danger  of  a  fallacy. 
It  may  be  doubted  whether  wheat  was  the  general 
bread- corn  of  that  age ;  and  if  rye,  barley,  or  oats 
were  the  common  food,  and  wheat,  as  I  suspect,  only 
a  delicacy,  the  value  of  wheat  will  not  regulate  the 
price  of  other  things.  This  doubt,  however,  is  in  favor 
of  Ascham ;  for,  if  we  raise  the  worth  of  wheat,  we 
raise  that  of  his  pension. 

But  the  value  of  money  has  another  variation,  which 
we  are  still  less  able  to  ascertain  :  the  rules  of  custom, 
or  the  different  needs  of  artificial  life,  make  that  reve- 
nue little  at  one  time  which  is  great  at  another.  Men 
are  rich  and  poor,  not  only  in  proportion  to  what  they 
have,  but  to  what  they  want.  In  some  ages,  not  only 
necessaries  are  cheaper,  but  fewer  things  are  necessary. 
In  the  age  of  Ascham,  most  of  the  elegances  and  ex- 
penses of  our  present  fashions  were  unknown ;  com- 
merce had  not  yet  distributed  superfluity  through  the 
lower  classes  of  the  people ;  and  the  character  of  a 
student  implied  frugality,  and  required  no  splendor  to 
support  it.  His  pension,  therefore,  reckoning  together 
the  wants  which  he  could  supply,  and  the  wants  from 
which  he  was  exempt,  may  be  estimated,  in  my  opin- 
ion, at  more  than  a  hundred  pounds  a  year,  which, 
added  to  the  income  of  his  fellowship,  put  him  far 
enough  above  distress. 

This  was  a  year  of  good  fortune  to  Ascham.  He 
was  chosen  orator  to  the  university  on  the  removal  of 
Sir  John  Cheke  to  court,  where  he  was  made  tutor 


ROGER  ASCHAM.  2$ 

to  Prince  Edward.  A  man  once  distinguished  soon 
gains  admirers.  Ascham  was  now  received  to  notice 
by  many  of  the  nobility,  and  by  great  ladies,  among 
whom  it  was  then  the  fashion  to  study  the  ancient 
languages.  Lee,  archbishop  of  York,  allowed  him  a 
yearly  pension  :  how  much,  we  are  not  told.  He  was 
probably  about  this  time  employed  in  teaching  many 
illustrious  persons  to  write  a  fine  hand,  and  among 
others,  Henry  and  Charles,  dukes  of  Suffolk,  the  Prin- 
cess Elizabeth,  and  Prince  Edward. 

Henry  VIII.  died  two  years  after ;  and  a  reforma- 
tion of  religion  being  now  openly  prosecuted  by  King 
Edward  and  his  council,  Ascham,  who  was  known  to 
favor  it,  had  a  new  grant  of  his  pension,  and  continued 
at  Cambridge,  where  he  lived  in  great  familiarity  with 
Bucer,  who  had  been  called  from  Germany  to  the  pro- 
fessorship of  divinity.  But  his  retirement  was  soon  at 
an  end;  for  in  1548,  his  pupil  Grindal,  the  master  of 
the  Princess  Elizabeth,  died ;  and  the  princess,  who 
had  already  some  acquaintance  with  Ascham,  called 
him  from  his  college  to  direct  her  studies.  He  obeyed 
the  summons,  as  we  may  easily  believe,  with  readiness, 
and  for  two  years  instructed  her  with  great  diligence  ; 
but  then,  being  disgusted  either  at  her  or  her  domes- 
tics, perhaps  eager  for  another  change  of  life,  he  left 
her  without  her  consent,  and  returned  to  the  university. 
Of  this  precipitation  he  long  repented ;  and,  as  those 
who  are  not  accustomed  to  disrespect  cannot  easily 
forgive  it,  he  probably  felt  the  effects  of  his  imprudence 
to  his  death. 


24  ROGER  ASCHAM. 

After  having  visited  Cambridge,  he  took  a  journey 
into  Yorkshire,  to  see  his  native  place  and  his  old 
acquaintance,  and  there  received  a  letter  from  the 
court,  informing  him  that  he  was  appointed  secretary 
to  Sir  Richard  Morisine,  who  was  to  be  despatched 
as  ambassador  into  Germany.  In  his  return  to  Lon- 
don, he  paid  that  memorable  visit  to  Lady  Jane  Grey, 
in  which  he  found  her  reading  the  "  Phsedo,"  in  Greek, 
as  he  has  related  in  his  "Schole  Master." 

In  September,  1550,  he  attended  Morisine  to  Ger- 
many, and  wandered  over  great  part  of  the  country, 
making  observations  upon  all  that  appeared  worthy  of 
his  curiosity,  and  contracting  acquaintance  with  men 
of  learning.  To  his  correspondent  Sturmius  he  paid  a 
visit ;  but  Sturmius  was  not  at  home,  and  those  two 
illustrious  friends  never  saw  each  other.  During  the 
course  of  this  embassy,  Ascham  undertook  to  improve 
Morisine  in  Greek,  and,  for  four  days  in  the  week,  ex- 
plained some  passages  in  Herodotus  every  morning, 
and  more  than  two  hundred  verses  of  Sophocles  or 
Euripides  every  afternoon.  He  read  with  him  likewise 
some  of  the  orations  of  Demosthenes.  On  the  other 
days  he  compiled  the  letters  of  business,  and  in  the 
night  filled  up  his  diary,  digested  his  remarks,  and 
wrote  private  letters  to  his  friends  in  England,  and  par- 
ticularly to  those  of  his  college,  whom  he  continually 
exhorted  to  perseverance  in  study.  Amidst  all  the 
pleasures  of  novelty  which  his  travels  supplied,  and  in 
the  dignity  of  his  public  station,  he  preferred  the  tran- 
quillity of  private  study  and  the  quiet  of  academical 


ROGER  ASCHAM.  2$ 

retirement.  The  reasonableness  of  this  choice  has 
been  always  disputed ;  and  in  the  contrariety  of  human 
interests  and  dispositions,  the  controversy  will  not 
easily  be  decided. 

He  made  a  short  excursion  into  Italy,  and  mentions 
in  his  "Schole  Master,"  with  great  severity,  the  vices 
of  Venice.  He  was  desirous  of  visiting  Trent  while 
the  council  were  sitting,  but  the  scantiness  of  his  purse 
defeated  his  curiosity. 

In  this  journey  he  wrote  his  "  Report  and  Discourse 
of  the  Affairs  in  Germany,"  in  which  he  describes  the 
dispositions  and  interests  of  the  German  princes  like 
a  man  inquisitive  and  judicious,  and  recounts  many 
particularities  which  are  lost  in  the  mass  of  general 
history,  in  a  style  which  to  the  ears  of  that  age  was 
undoubtedly  mellifluous,  and  which  is  now  a  very  val- 
uable specimen  of  genuine  English. 

By  the  death  of  King  Edward  in  1553,  the  Reforma- 
tion was  stopped,  Morisine  was  recalled,  and  Ascham's 
pension  and  hopes  were  at  an  end.  He  therefore 
retired  to  his  fellowship  in  a  state  of  disappointment 
and  despair,  which  his  biographer  has  endeavored  to 
express  in  the  deepest  strain  of  plaintive  declamation. 
"  He  was  deprived  of  all  his  support,"  says  Graunt, 
"  stripped  of  his  pension,  and  cut  off  from  the  assist- 
ance of  his  friends,  who  had  now  lost  their  influence ; 
so  that  he  had  nee  pramia  nee  prczdia,  neither  pension 
nor  estate  to  support  him  at  Cambridge."  There  is 
no  credit  due  to  a  rhetorician's  account,  either  of  good 
or  evil.  The  truth  is,  that  Ascham  still  had  in  his 


26  ROGER  ASCHAM. 

fellowship  all  that  in  the  early  part  of  his  life  had  given 
him  plenty,  and  might  have  lived  like  the  other  inhab- 
itants of  the  college,  with  the  advantage  of  more 
knowledge  and  higher  reputation.  But,  notwithstand- 
ing his  love  of  academical  retirement,  he  had  now  too 
long  enjoyed  the  pleasures  and  festivities  of  public 
life,  to  return  with  a  good  will  to  academical  poverty. 

He  had,  however,  better  fortune  than  he  expected, 
and,  if  he  lamented  his  condition  like  the  historian, 
better  than  he  deserved.  He  had,  during  his  absence 
in  Germany,  been  appointed  Latin  secretary  to  King 
Edward ;  and  by  the  interest  of  Gardiner,  Bishop  of 
Winchester,  he  was  instated  in  the  same  office  under 
Philip  and  Mary,  with  a  salary  of  twenty  pounds  a 
year. 

Soon  after  his  admission  to  his  new  employment,  he 
gave  an  extraordinary  specimen  of  his  abilities  and  dili- 
gence, by  composing  and  transcribing  with  his  usual 
elegance,  in  three  days,  forty-seven  letters  to  princes 
and  personages,  of  whom  cardinals  were  the  lowest. 

How  Ascham,  who  was  known  to  be  a  Protestant, 
could  preserve  the  favor  of  Gardiner,  and  hold  a  place 
of  honor  and  profit  in  Queen  Mary's  court,  it  must  be 
very  natural  to  inquire.  Cheke,  as  is  well  known,  was 
compelled  to  a  recantation;  and  why  Ascham  was 
spared,  cannot  now  be  discovered.  Graunt,  at  the 
time  when  the  transactions  of  Queen  Mary's  reign 
must  have  been  well  enough  remembered,  declares 
that  Ascham  always  made  open  profession  of  the  re- 
formed religion,  and  that  Englesfield  and  others  often 


ROGER  ASCHAM.  2J 

endeavored  to  incite  Gardiner  against  him,  but  found, 
their  accusations  rejected  with  contempt ;  yet  he  al- 
lows that  suspicions,  and  charges  of  temporization 
and  compliance,  had  somewhat  sullied  his  reputation. 
The  author  of  the  Biographia  Britannica  conjectures 
that  he  owed  his  safety  to  his  innocence  and  useful- 
ness ;  that  it  would  have  been  unpopular  to  attack  a , 
man  so  little  liable  to  censure,  and  that  the  loss  of  his 
pen  could  not  have  been  easily  supplied.  But  the 
truth  is,  that  morality  was  never  suffered  in  the  days 
of  persecution  to  protect  heresy ;  nor  are  we  sure  that . 
Ascham  was  more  clear  from  common  failings  than 
those  who  suffered  more ;  and,  whatever  might  be  his 
abilities,  they  were  not  so  necessary  but  Gardiner  could 
have  easily  rilled  his  place  with  another  secretary. 
Nothing  is  more  vain,  than  at  a  distant  time  to  exam- 
ine the  motives  of  discrimination  and  partiality;  for 
the  inquirer,  having  considered  interest  and  policy,  is 
obliged  at  last  to  admit  more  frequent  and  more  active 
motives  of  human  conduct,  caprice,  accident,  and  pri- 
vate affections. 

At  that  time,  if  some  were  punished,  many  were 
forborne  ;  and  of  many,  why  should  not  Ascham  hap- 
pen  to  be  one?  He  seems  to  have  been  calm  and 
prudent,  and  content  with  that  peace  which  he  was 
suffered  to  enjoy,  a  mode  of  behavior  that  seldom  fails 
to  produce  security.  He  had  been  abroad  in  the  last 
years  of  King  Edward,  and  had  at  least  given  no  re- 
cent offence.  He  was  certainly,  according  to  his  own 
opinion,  not  much  in  danger;  for  in  the  next  year 


28  ROGER  ASCHAM. 

he  resigned  his  fellowship,  which  by  Gardiner's  favor 
he  had  continued  to  hold,  though  not  resident,  and 
married  Margaret  Howe,  a  young  gentlewoman  of  a 
good  family. 

He  was  distinguished  in  this  reign  by  the  notice  of 
Cardinal  Pole,  a  man  of  great  candor,  learning,  and 
gentleness  of  manners,  and  particularly  eminent  for  his 
skill  in  Latin,  who  thought  highly  of  Ascham's  style ; 
of  which  it  is  no  inconsiderable  proof,  that  when  Pole 
was  desirous  of  communicating  a  speech  made  by  him- 
self as  legate  in  parliament  to  the  Pope,  he  employed 
Ascham  to  translate  it. 

He  is  said  to  have  been  not  only  protected  by  the 
officers  of  state,  but  favored  and  countenanced  by 
the  queen  herself,  so  that  he  had  no  reason  of  com- 
plaint in  that  reign  of  turbulence  and  persecution; 
nor  was  his  fortune  much  mended,  when,  in  1558,  his 
pupil  Elizabeth  mounted  the  throne.  He  was  contin- 
ued in  his  former  employment  with  the  same  stipend ; 
but  though  he  was  daily  admitted  to  the  presence  of 
the  queen,  assisted  her  private  studies,  and  partook 
of  her  diversions ;  sometimes  read  to  her  in  the  learned 
languages,  and  sometimes  played  with  her  at  draughts 
and  chess,  —  he  added  nothing  to  his  twenty  pounds 
a  year  but  the  prebend  of  Westwang,  in  the  church  of 
York,  which  was  given  him  the  year  following.  His 
fortune  was  therefore  not  proportionate  to  the  rank 
which  his  offices  and  reputation  gave  him,  or  to  the 
favor  in  which  he  seemed  to  stand  with  his  mistress. 
Of  this  parsimonious  allotment,  it  is  again  a  hopeless 


ROGER  ASCHAM.  29 

search  to  inquire  the  reason.  The  queen  was  not 
naturally  bountiful,  and  perhaps  did  not  think  it  ne- 
cessary to  distinguish  by  any  prodigality  of  kindness  a 
man  who  had  formerly  deserted  her,  and  whom  she 
might  still  suspect  of  serving  rather  for  interest  than 
affection.  Graunt  exerts  his  rhetorical  powers  in  praise 
of  Ascham's  disinterestedness  and  contempt  of  money, 
and  declares,  that,  though  he  was  often  reproached  by 
his  friends  with  neglect  of  his  own  interest,  he  never 
would  ask  any  thing,  and  inflexibly  refused  all  presents 
which  his  office  or  imagined  interest  induced  any  to 
offer  him.  Cambden,  however,  imputes  the  narrowness 
of  his  condition  to  his  love  of  dice  and  cock-fights  ^ 
and  Graunt,  forgetting  himself,  allows  that  Ascham 
was  sometimes  thrown  into  agonies  by  disappointed 
expectations.  It  may  be  easily  discovered  from  his 
"  Scholemaster,"  that  he  felt  his  wants,  though  he 
might  neglect  to  supply  them ;  and  we  are  left  to  sus- 
pect that  he  showed  his  contempt  of  money,  only  by 
losing  at  play.  If  this  was  his  practice,  we  may  excuse 
Elizabeth,  who  knew  the  domestic  character  of  her 
servants,  if  she  did  not  give  much  to  him  who  was 
lavish  of  a  little. 

However  he  might  fail  in  his  economy,  it  were  in- 
decent to  treat  with  wanton  levity  the  memory  of  a 
man  who  shared  his  frailties  with  all,  but  whose  learn- 
ing or  virtues  few  can  attain,  and  by  whose  excellences 
many  may  be  improved,  while  himself  only  suffered 
by  his  faults. 

In  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  nothing  remarkable  is 


30  ROGER   ASCHAM. 

:known  to  have  befallen  him  except  that  in  1563  he 
was  invited  by  Sir  Edward  Sackville  to  write  the 
""  Scholemaster,"  a  treatise  on  education,  upon  an  oc- 
casion which  he  relates  in  the  beginning  of  the  book. 

This  work,  though  begun  with  alacrity,  in  hope  of 
a  considerable  reward,  was  interrupted  by  the  death 
of  the  patron,  and  afterwards  sorrowfully  and  slowly 
finished  in  the  gloom  of  disappointment,  under  the 
pressure  of  distress.  But  of  the  author's  disinclination 
or  dejection,  there  can  be  found  no  tokens  in  the  work, 
which  is  conceived  with  great  vigor,  and  finished  with 
great  accuracy,  and  perhaps  contains  the  best  advice 
that  was  ever  given  for  the  study  of  languages. 

This  treatise  he  completed,  but  did  not  publish; 
.for  that  poverty  which  in  our  days  drives  authors  so 
hastily  in  such  numbers  to  the  press,  in  the,  time  of 
Ascham,  I  believe,  debarred  them  from  it.  The  print- 
ers gave  little  for  a  copy,  and,  if  we  may  believe  the 
tale  of  Raleigh's  history,  were  not  forward  to  print 
what  was  offered  them  for  nothing.  Ascham's  book, 
therefore,  lay  unseen  in  his  study,  and  was  at  last  dedi- 
cated to  Lord  Cecil  by  his  widow. 

Ascham  never  had  a  robust  or  vigorous  body,  and 
his  excuse  for  so  many  hours  of  diversion  was  his  in- 
ability to  endure  a  long  continuance  of  sedentary 
thought.  In  the  latter  part  of  his  life  he  found  it  ne- 
cessary to  forbear  any  intense  application  of  the  mind 
from  dinner  to  bedtime,  and  rose  to  read  and  write 
early  in  the  morning.  He  was  for  some  years  hecti- 
cally feverish,  and,  though  he  found  some  alleviation 


ROGER  ASCHAM.  31 

of  his  distemper,  never  obtained  a  perfect  recovery  of 
his  health.  The  immediate  cause  of  his  last  sickness 
was  too  close  application  to  the  composition  of  a 
poem,  which  he  proposed  to  present  to  the  queen  on 
the  day  of  her  accession.  To  finish  this,  he  forbore 
to  sleep  at  his  accustomed  hours,  till  in  December, 
1568,  he  fell  sick  of  a  kind  of  lingering  disease,  which 
Graunt  has  not  named,  nor  accurately  described.  The 
most  afflictive  symptom  was  want  of  sleep,  which  he 
endeavored  to  obtain  by  the  motion  of  a  cradle. 
Growing  every  day  weaker,  he  found  it  vain  to  con- 
tend with  his  distemper,  and  prepared  to  die  with  the 
resignation  and  piety  of  a  true  Christian.  He  was 
attended  on  his  death-bed  by  Gravet,  vicar  of  St.  Sep- 
ulchre, and  Dr.  Novvel,  the  learned  dean  of  St.  Paul's, 
who  gave  ample  testimony  to  the  decency  and  devo- 
tion of  his  concluding  life.  He  frequently  testified  his 
desire  of  that  dissolution  which  he  soon  obtained. 
His  funeral  sermon  was  preached  by  Dr.  Nowel. 

Roger  Ascham  died  in  the  fifty-third  year  of  his 
age,  at  a  time  when,  according  to  the  general  course  of 
life,  much  might  yet  have  been  expected  from  him,  and 
when  he  might  have  hoped  for  much  from  others  :  but 
his  abilities  and  his  wants  were  at  an  end  together ; 
and  who  can  determine  whether  he  was  cut  off  from 
advantages,  or  rescued  from  calamities?  He  appears 
to  have  been  not  much  qualified  for  the  improvement 
of  his  fortune.  His  disposition  was  kind  and  social : 
he  delighted  in  the  pleasures  of  conversation,  and  was 
probably  not  much  inclined  to  business.  This  may 


32  .         ROGER  ASCHAM. 

be  suspected  from  the  paucity  of  his  writings.  He 
has  left  little  behind  him ;  and  of  that  little,  nothing 
was  published  by  himself  but  the  "  Toxophilus  "  and 
the  account  of  Germany.  "  The  Scholemaster  "  was 
printed  by  his  widow ;  and  the  epistles  were  collected 
by  Graunt,  who  dedicated  them  to  Queen  Elizabeth, 
that  he  might  have  an  opportunity  of  recommending 
his  son,  Giles  Ascham,  to  her  patronage.  The  dedica- 
tion was  not  lost :  the  young  man  was  made,  by  the 
queen's  mandate,  fellow  of  a  college  in  Cambridge, 
where  he  obtained  considerable  reputation.  What  was 
the  effect  of  his  widow's  dedication  to  Cecil  is  not 
known :  it  may  be  hoped  that  Ascham's  works  ob- 
tained for  his  family,  after  his  decease,  that  support 
which  he  did  not  in  his  life  very  plenteously  procure 
them. 

Whether  he  was  poor  by  his  own  fault,  or  the  fault 
of  others,  cannot  now  be  decided;  but  it  is  certain 
that  many  have  been  rich  with  less  merit.  His  philo- 
logical learning  would  have  gained  him  honor  in  any 
country ;  and  among  us  it  may  justly  call  for  that  rev- 
erence which  all  nations  owe  to  those  who  first  rouse 
them  from  ignorance,  and  kindle  among  them  the  light 
of  literature.  Of  his  manners  nothing  can  be  said  but 
from  his  own  testimony,  and  that  of  his  contempora- 
ries. Those  who  mention  him  allow  him  many  virtues. 
His  courtesy,  benevolence,  and  liberality  are  cele- 
brated ;  and  of  his  piety  we  have  not  only  the  testi- 
mony of  his  friends,  but  the  evidence  of  his  writings. 

That  his  English  works  have  been  so  long  neglected, 


ROGER  ASCHAM.  33 

is  a  proof  of  the  uncertainty  of  literary  fame.  He  was 
scarcely  known  as  an  author  in  his  own  language  till 
Mr.  Upton  published  his  "  Scholemaster  "  with  learned 
notes.  His  other  poems  were  read  only  by  those  few 
who  delight  in  obsolete  books ;  but  as  they  are  now 
collected  into  one  volume,  with  the  addition  of  some 
letters  never  printed  before,  the  public  has  an  oppor- 
tunity of  recompensing  the  injury,  and  allotting  Ascharn 
the  reputation  due  to  his  knowledge  and  his  eloquence. 

[Dr.  Johnson  also  wrote  a  dedication  for  Bennet's 
edition.  The  chosen  patron  was  a  member  of  the 
noble  family,  whose  "  names  are  on  the  waters  "  of 
South  Carolina,  His  hereditary  title  has  been  worth- 
ily borne  in  our  own  day  by  the  seventh  earl  of  Shaftes- 
bury,  who  died  in  1885.  This  short  paper  is  worth- 
copying,  for  that  characteristic  touch  of  Johnson's  pen, 
—  "  formed  Elizabeth  to  empire."  —  C.] 

To  THE  RIGHT  HON.  ANTHONY  ASHLEY  COOPER,  EARL  OF 
SHAFTESBURY,  BARON  ASHLEY,  LORD  LIEUTENANT,  AND 
GUSTOS  ROTULORUM  OF  DORSETSHIRE,  F.  R.  s. 

My  Lord,  —  Having  endeavoured,  by  an  elegant  and  useful 
edition,  to  recover  the  esteem  of  the  public  to  an  author  un- 
deservedly neglected,  the  only  care  which  I  now  owe  to  his 
memory,  is  that  of  inscribing  his  works  to  a  patron  whose  ac- 
knowledged eminence  of  character  may  awaken  attention  and 
attract  regard. 

I  have  not  suffered  the  zeal  of  an  editor  so  far  to  take  pos- 
session of  my  mind,  as  that  I  should  obtrude  upon  your  lord- 
ship any  productions  unsuitable  to  the  dignity  of  your  rank  or 
of  your  sentiments.  Ascham  was  not  only  the  chief  ornamen* 


34  ROGER  ASCHAM. 

of  a  celebrated  college,  but  visited  foreign  countries,  frequented 
courts,  and  lived  in  familiarity  with  statesmen  and  princes ; 
not  only  instructed  scholars  in  literature,  but  formed  Elizabeth 
to  empire. 

To  propagate  the  works  of  such  a  writer  will  not  be  un- 
worthy of  your  lordship's  patriotism :  for  I  know  not  what 
greater  benefits  you  can  confer  on  your  country,  than  that  of 
preserving  worthy  names  from  oblivion,  by  joining  them  with 
your  own.  I  am,  my  lord,  your  lordship's  most  obliged,  most 
obedient,  and  most  humble  servant, 

JAMES   BENNET. 


ROGER  ASCHAM.  3$ 


CHAPTER   II. 

"  The  SCHOOLMASTER  is  a  classical  production  in  English,  which 
may  be  placed  by  the  side  of  its  great  Latin  rivals,  the  Orator  of 
Cicero  and  the  Institutes  of  Quintilian."  —  I.  D'!SRAELI. 

"THE  SCHOLEMASTER." 

THIS  is  a  book  scarcely  two-thirds  as  large  as  the 
volume  which  the  reader  now  has  in  his  hand.  It  is 
divided  into  two  nearly  equal  parts.  The  first  part  is 
on  "The  bringing  up  of  youth;"  the  second  on  "The 
ready  way  to  the  Latin  tongue."  The  work  is  avowedly 
based  upon  a  passage  of  Cicero  (De  Oratore,  Book  I. 
chap,  xxxiv.),  which  has  been  thus  translated  :  — 

"  But  in  my  daily  exercises,  I  used,  when  a  youth,  to  adopt 
chiefly  that  method  which  I  knew  that  Caius  Carbo,  my  adver- 
sary, generally  practised,  which  was,  that  having  selected  some 
nervous  piece  of  poetry,  or  read  over  such  a  portion  of  a 
speech  as  I  could  retain  in  my  memory,  I  used  to  declaim 
upon  what  I  had  been  reading  in  other  words,  chosen  with  all 
the  judgment  that  I  possessed.  .  .  .  Afterwards  I  thought 
proper,  and  continued  the  practice  at  a  rather  more  advanced 
age,  to  translate  the  orations  of  the  best  Greek  orators;  by 
fixing  upon  which,  I  gained  this  advantage,  that  while  I  ren- 
dered into  Latin  what  I  had  read  in  Greek,  I  not  only  used  the 
best  words,  and  yet  such  as  were  of  common  occurrence,  but 
also  formed  some  words  by  imitation,  which  would  be  new  to 
our  countrymen,  taking  care,  however,  that  they  were  unobjec- 
tionable." 


36  ROGER  ASCHAM. 

We  propose  to  give  a  few  extracts  from  the  work, 
rather  to  show  the  author's  style  than  to  furnish  an 
abstract  of  his  views  on  the  best  methods  of  teaching 
the  languages.  Those  wishing  to  learn  these,  will,  of 
course,  refer  to  the  book.  A  good  edition,  in  the  ori- 
ginal spelling,  without  notes,  is  published  as  one  of  a 
series  of  "  English  Reprints  "  —  price  one  shilling,  Bir- 
mingham, England,  1870.  An  account  of  Ascham's 
method,  compared  with  later  theories  and  systems, 
can  be  found  in  "  Essays  on  Educational  Reformers," 
by  Robert  Herbert  Quick,  Cincinnati,  1879.  Under 
some  form  or  other,  Ascham's  suggestions  are  embod- 
ied in  every  successful  attempt  to  teach  a  strange  lan- 
guage, especially  to  adult  pupils.  It  seems  proper 
that  Ascham  should  have  a  little  space  in  the  Chau- 
tauqua  series,  as  several  languages  are  successfully 
taught  in  the  summer  schools  (Dr.  Vincent's  "  Chau- 
tauqua  Movement,"  p.  69). 

Our  extracts  from  "  The  Scholemaster  "  will  be  given 
in  modern  spelling,  as  more  convenient  to  general 
readers.  The  "  Preface  to  the  Reader  "  gives  at  length 
the  reasons  that  led  the  author  to  write  his  little  book. 
Both  for  manner  and  matter,  it  seems  worthy  of  being 
copied  in  full.  The  titlepage  is  given,  as  nearly  as 
possible,  in  the  original  style  and  spelling. 

An  edition  of  "The  Whole  Works  of  Roger  As- 
cham" was  published  in  London,  1865,  by  Dr.  Giles 
of  Oxford. 


THE 

SCHOLEMASTER 

Or  plaine  andperfite  way  of  tea- 
chyng  children  Jo  vnderftand, write, and 

fpeake,  in  Latin  tong,  but  fpecially  purpofed 
for  the  priuate  brynging  vp  of  youth  in  lentle- 
men  and  Noble  mens  houfes,  and  commodious 
alfo  for  all  fuck,  as  haue  forgot  the  Latin 
tonge,  and  would,  by  themfelues,  with- 
out a  Scholemaster,  in  fhort  tyme, 
and  with  f  mall paines,  recouera 
fufficient  habilite,  to  vnder- 
•  stand,   write,   and 

fpeake  Latin. 

% 

^[  By  Roger  Afcham. 

f  An.    1570. 
A  T    LONDON. 

Printed  by  lohn  Daye,  dwelling 
ouer  Alderfgate. 

IT  Cum  Gratia  et  Priuilegio  Regies  Maieftatis, 
per  Decennium. 


"PREFACE  TO  THE  READER. 


"  WHEN  the  great  plague  was  at  London,  the  year  1 563, 
the  Queen's  Majesty,  Queen  Elizabeth,  lay  at  her  Castle 
of  Windsor ;  where  upon  the  tenth  day  of  December,  it 
fortuned,  that  in  Sir  William  Cecil's  chamber,  her  High- 
ness's  principal  Secretary,  there  dined  together  these 
personages,  M.  Secretary  himself,  Sir  William  Peter,  Sir 
J.  Mason,  D.  Wotton,  Sir  Richard  Sackville,  Treasurer 
of  the  Exchequer,  Sir  Walter  Mildmay,  Chancellor  of 
Exchequer,  M.  Haddon,  Master  of  Requests,  M.  John 
Astely,  Master  of  the  Jewel  House,  M.  Bernard  Hampton, 
M.  Nicasius,  and  I. 

"  Of  which  number,  the  most  part  were  of  her  Majesty's 
most  honorable  Privy  Council,  and  the  rest  serving  her 
in  very  good  place.  I  was  glad  then,  and  do  rejoice  yet 
to  remember,  that  my  chance  was  so  happy  to  be  there 
that  day,  in  the  company  of  so  many  wise  and  good  men 
together,  as  hardly  then  could  have  been  picked  out  again, 
out  of  all  England  besides. 

" M.  Secretary  hath  this  accustomed  manner;  though 
his  head  be  never  so  full  of  most  weighty  affairs  of  the 
realm,  yet  at  dinner  time  he  doth  seem  to  lay  them  always 
aside ;  and  fmdeth  ever  fit  occasion  to  talk  pleasantly  of 
other  matters,  but  most  gladly  of  some  matter  of  learning, 

38 


ROGER  ASCHAM.  39 

wherein  he  will  courteously  hear  the  mind  of  the  meanest 
at  his  table. 

"  Not  long  after  our  sitting  down, '  I  have  strange  news 
brought  me,'  saith  M.  Secretary,  '  this  morning,  that 
divers  scholars  of  Eaton  run  away  from  the  school  for 
fear  of  a  beating.'  Whereupon  M.  Secretary  took  occa- 
sion to  wish,  that  some  more  discretion  were  in  many 
schoolmasters,  in  using  correction,  than  commonly  there 
is ;  who  many  times  punish  rather  the  weakness  of  nature, 
than  the  fault  of  the  scholar;  whereby  many  scholars, 
that  might  else  prove  well,  be  driven  to  hate  learning 
before  they  know  what  learning  meaneth ;  and  so  are 
made  willing  to  forsake  their  books,  and  be  glad  to  be 
put  to  any  other  kind  of  living.  M.  Peter,  as  one  some- 
what severe  of  nature,  said  plainly,  that  the  rod  only  was 
the  sword,  that  must  keep  the  school  in  obedience,  and 
the  scholar  in  good  order.  Mr.  Wotton,  a  man  mild  of 
nature,  with  soft  voice  and  few  words,  inclined  to  M. 
Secretary's  judgment,  and  said,  '  In  mine  opinion  the 
schoolhouse  should  be  indeed  as  it  is  called  by  name, 
the  house  of  play  and  pleasure,  and  not  of  fear  and 
bondage;  and  as  I  do  remember,  so  saith  Socrates  in 
one  place  of  Plato.  And  therefore  if  a  rod  carry  the  fear 
of  a  sword,  it  is  no  marvel  if  those  that  be  fearful  of 
nature,  choose  rather  to  forsake  the  play,  than  to  stand 
always  within  the  fear  of  a  sword  in  a  fond  \JbolisK\ 
man's  handling.' 

"  M.  Mason,  after  his  manner,  was  very  merry  with  both 
parties,  pleasantly  playing  both  with  the  shrewd  touches 
of  many  curst  boys,  and  with  the  small  discretion  of 
many  lewd  schoolmasters. 

"  M.  Haddon  was  fully  of  M.  Peter's  opinion,  and  said, 
that  the  best  schoolmaster  of  our  time  was  the  greatest 


4O  ROGER   ASCHAM. 

beater,  and  named  the  person.  '  Though,'  quoth  I,  '  it 
was  his  good  fortune,  to  send  from  his  school  into  the 
University  one  of  the  best  scholars  indeed  of  all  our 
time,  yet  wise  men  do  think,  that  that  came  to  pass, 
rather  by  the  great  towardness  of  the  scholar,  than  by 
the  great  beating  of  the  master ;  and  whether  this  be  true 
or  no,  you  yourself  are  best  witness.'  I  said  somewhat 
further  in  the  matter,  how,  and  why,  young  children  were 
sooner  allured  by  love  than  driven  by  beating,  to  attain 
good  learning;  wherein  I  was  bolder  to  say  my  mind, 
because  M.  Secretary  courteously  provoked  me  there- 
unto ;  or  else  in  such  a  company  and  surely  in  his  pres- 
ence, my  wont  is  to  be  more  willing  to  use  mine  ears, 
than  to  occupy  my  tongue. 

"Sir  Walter  Mildmay,  M.  Astley,  and  the  rest,  said 
very  little ;  only  Sir  Richard  Sackville  said  nothing  at  all. 
After  dinner  I  went  up  to  read  with  the  Queen's  Majesty. 
We  read  then  together  in  the  Greek  tongue,  as  I  well 
remember,  that  noble  oration  of  Demosthenes  against 
y^Eschines,  for  his  false  dealing  in  his  embassage  to  King 
Philip  of  Macadonie.  Sir  Richard  Sackville  came  up 
soon  after,  and  finding  me  in  her  Majesty's  privy  cham- 
ber, he  took  me  by  the  hand,  and  carrying  me  to  the 
window  said :  '  M.  Ascham,  I  would  not  for  a  good  deal 
of  money  have  been  this  day  absent  from  dinner ;  where, 
though  I  said  nothing,  yet  I  gave  as  good  ear,  and  do 
consider  as  well  the  talk  that  passed,  as  any  one  did  there. 
M.  Secretary  said  very  wisely,  and  most  truly,  that  many 
young  wits  be  driven  to  hate  learning,  before  they  know 
what  learning  is.  ,  I  can  be  good  witness  to  this  myself; 
for  a  fond  (foolish}  schoolmaster,  before  I  was  fully  four- 
teen years  old,  drave  me  so  with  fear  of  beating  from  all 
love  of  learning,  that  now,  when  I  know  what  difference 


ROGER  ASCHAM.  4! 

it  is,  to  have  learning,  and  to  have  little,  or  none  at  all, 
I  feel  it  my  greatest  grief,  and  find  it  my  greatest  hurt 
that  ever  came  to  me,  that  it  was  my  so  ill  chance,  to 
light  upon  so  lewd  a  schoolmaster.  But  feeling  it  is  but 
in  vain  to  lament  things  past,  and  also  wisdom  to  look  to 
things  to  come,  surely,  God  willing,  if  God  lend  me  life, 
I  will  make  this  my  mishap  some  occasion  of  good  hap 
to  little  Robert  Sackville  my  son's  son.  For  whose  bring- 
ing up,  I  would  gladly,  if  it  so  please  you,  use  specially 
your  good  advice.  I  hear  say  you  have  a  son  much  of 
his  age ;  we  will  deal  thus  together :  point  you  out  a 
schoolmaster,  who  by  your  order  shall  teach  my  son  and 
yours,  and  for  all  the  rest,  I  will  provide,  yea  though  they 
three  do  cost  me  a  couple  of  hundred  pounds  by  year ; 
and  besides,  you  shall  find  me  as  fast  a  friend  to  you  and 
yours,  as  perchance  any  you  have.'  Which  promise  the 
worthy  gentleman  surely  kept  with  me  until  his  dying 
day.  We  had  then  farther  talk  together  of  bringing-up 
of  children,  of  the  nature  of  quick  and  hard  wits,  of  the 
right  choice  of  a  good  wit,  of  fear,  and  love  and  teaching 
children.  We  passed  from  children  and  came  to  young 
men,  namely  gentlemen :  we  talked  of  their  too  much 
liberty  to  live  as  they  lust ;  of  their  letting  loose  too 
soon  to  over  much  experience  of  ill,  contrary  to  the  good 
order  of  many  good  old  Commonwealths  of  the  Persians, 
and  Greeks;  of  wit  gathered,  and  good  fortune  gotten 
by  some,  only  by  experience  without  learning.  And, 
lastly,  he  required  of  me  very  earnestly  to  show  what  I 
thought  of  the  common  going  of  English  men  into  Italy. 
"  'But, '  saith  he,  '  because  this  place  and  this  time  will 
not  suffer  so  long  talk  as  these  good  matters  require, 
therefore  I  pray  you,  at  my  request,  and  at  your  leisure, 
put  in  some  order  of  writing  the  chief  points  of  this  our 


42  ROGER  ASCHAM. 

talk,  concerning  the  right  order  of  teaching,  and  honesty 
of  living,  for  the  good  bringing-up  of  children  and  young 
men;  and  surely  beside  contenting  me,  you  shall  both 
please  and  profit  very  many  others.'  I  made  some 
excuse  by  lack  of  ability,  and  weakness  of  body.  '  Well,' 
saith  he,  1 1  am  not  now  to  learn  what  you  can  do ;  our 
dear  friend,  good  M.  Goodricke,  whose  judgment  I  could 
well  believe,  did  once  for  all  satisfy  me  fully  therein. 
Again,  I  heard  you  say,  not  long  ago,  that  you  may  thank 
Sir  John  Cheke  for  all  the  learning  you  have ;  and  I  know 
very  well  myself,  that  you  did  teach  the  Queen.  And 
therefore,  seeing  God  did  bless  you,  to  make  you  the 
scholar  of  the  best  master,  and  also  the  schoolmaster  of 
the  best  scholar,  that  ever  were  in  our  time,  surely,  you 
should  please  God,  benefit  your  country,  and  honest  your 
own  name,  if  you  would  take  the  pains  to  impart  to  others 
what  you  learned  of  such  a  master,  and  how  you  taught 
such  a  scholar.  And  in  uttering  the  stuff  ye  received  of 
the  one,  in  declaring  the  order  ye  took  with  the  other,  ye 
shall  never  lack  neither  matter,  nor  manner,  what  to  write 
nor  how  to  write  in  this  kind  of  argument.* 

"  I  beginning  some  further  excuse,  suddenly  was  called 
to  come  to  the  Queen.  The  night  following  I  slept  little ; 
my  head  was  so  full  of  this  our  former  talk,  and  I  so 
mindful  somewhat  to  satisfy  the  honest  request  of  so  dear 
a  friend.  I  thought  to  prepare  some  little  treatise  for  a 
New  Year's  gift  that  Christmas ;  but,  as  it  chanceth  to 
busy  builders,  so,  in  building  this  my  poor  schoolhouse 
(the  rather  because  the  form  of  it  is  somewhat  new,  and 
differing  from  others),  the  work  rose  daily  higher  and 
wider  than  I  thought  it  would  at  the  beginning.  And 
though  it  appear  now,  and  be  in  very  deed,  but  a  small 
cottage,  poor  for  the  stuff,  and  rude  for  the  workman- 


ROGER  ASCHAM.  43 : 

ship ;  yet  in  going  forward  I  found  the  site  so  good,  as  I 
was  loath  to  give  it  over;  but  the  making  so  costly,  out- 
reaching  my  ability,  as  many  times  I  wished  that  some 
one  of  those  three,  my  dear  friends,  with  full  purses,  Sir 
Tho.  Smith,  M.  Haddon,  or  M.  Watson  had  had  the 
doing  of  it.  Yet  nevertheless,  I  myself  spending  gladly 
that  little,  that  I  gat  at  home  by  good  Sir  John  Cheke, 
and  that  I  borrowed  abroad  of  my  friend  Sturmius,  beside 
somewhat  that  was  left  me  in  reversion,  by  my  old  Mas- 
ters, Plato,  Aristotle  and  Cicero,  I  have  at  last  patched  it 
up,  as  I  could,  and  as  you  see.  If  the  matter  be  mean,  and 
meanly  handled,  I  pray  you  bear  both  with  me,  and  it ;  for 
never  work  went  up  in  worse  weather,  with  more  lets  and 
stops,  than  this  poor  schoolhouse  of  mine.  Westminster- 
Hall  can  bear  some  witness,  beside  much  weakness  of 
body,  but  more  trouble  of  mind,  by  some  such  sores,  as 
grieved  me  to  touch  them  myself ;  and  therefore  I  purpose 
not  to  open  them  to  others.  And  in  the  midst  of  outward 
injuries  and  inward  cares,  to  increase  them  withal,  good 
Sir  Richard  Sackville  dieth,  that  worthy  gentleman ;  *  That 
earnest  favorer  and  furtherer  of  God's  true  Religion ;  that 
faithful  servitor  to  his  prince  and  country;  a  lover  of 
learning,  and  all  learned  men ;  wise  in  all  doings  ;  courte- 
ous to  all  persons,  showing  spite  to  none,  doing  good  to 
many ;  and  as  I  well  found,  to  me  so  fast  a  friend,  as  I 
never  lost  the  like  before.'  When  he  was  gone,  my  heart 
was  dead  ;  there  was  not  one  that  wore  a  black  gown  for 
him,  who  carried  a  heavier  heart  for  him  than  I ;  when  he 
was  gone,  I  cast  this  book  away ;  I  could  not  look  upon 
it,  but  with  weeping  eyes,  in  remembering  him,  who  was 
the  only  setter  on,  to  do  it ;  and  would  have  been  not 
only  a  glad  commender  of  it,  but  also  a  sure  and  certain 
comfort  to  me  and  mine  for  it. 


44  ROGER  ASCHAM. 

"  Almost  two  years  together,  this  book  lay  scattered 
and  neglected,  and  had  been  quite  given  over  of  me,  if 
the  goodness  of  one  had  not  given  me  some  life  and  spirit 
again.  God,  the  mover  of  goodness,  prosper  always  him 
and  his,  as  he  hath  many  times  comforted  me  and  mine, 
and,  I  trust  to  God,  shall  comfort  more  and  more.  Of 
whom  most  justly  I  may  say,  and  very  oft,  and  always 
gladly  I  am  wont  to  say,  that  sweet  verse  of  Sophocles, 
spoken  by  CEdipus  to  worthy  Theseus,  *  For  whatsoever 
I  have,  I  have  through  thee,  and  through  none  other  of 
living  men.' 

"  This  hope  hath  helped  me  to  end  this  book ;  which  if 
he  allow,  I  shall  think  my  labors  well  employed,  and  shall 
not  much  esteem  the  mislikings  of  any  others.  And  I 
trust  he  shall  think  the  better  of  it  because  he  shall  find 
the  best  part  thereof  to  come  out  of  his  school  whom 
Tie  of  all  men  loved  and  liked  best.  Yet  some  men, 
friendly  enough  of  nature,  but  of  small  judgment  in  learn- 
ing, do  think  I  take  too  much  pains,  and  spend  too  much 
time,  in  setting  forth  these  children's  affairs.  But  those 
good  men  were  never  brought  up  in  Socrates'  school, 
who  saith  plainly  <  that  no  man  goeth  about  a  more  godly 
purpose,  than  he  that  is  mindful  of  the  good  bringing-up 
both  of  his  own  and  other  men's  children.'  Therefore  I 
trust,  good  and  wise  men  will  think  well  of  this  my  doing. 
And  of  others,  that  think  otherwise,  I  will  think  myself, 
they  are  but  men,  to  be  pardoned  for  their  folly,  and 
pitied  for  their  ignorance. 

"  In  writing  this  book,  I  have  had  earnest  respect  to 
three  special  points,  — truth  of  religion,  honesty  in  living, 
right  order  in  learning.  In  which  three  ways,  I  pray  God, 
my  poor  children  may  diligently  walk  ;  for  whose  sake,  as 
-nature  moved,  and  reason  required,  and  necessity  also 


ROGER  ASCHAM.  45 

somewhat  compelled,  I  was  the  willinger  to  take  these 
pains.  For  seeing  at  my  death,  I  am  not  like  to  leave 
them  any  great  store  of  living,  therefore  in  my  lifetime,  I 
thought  good  to  bequeath  unto  them,  in  this  little  book, 
as  in  my  will  and  testament,  the  right  way  to  good  learn- 
ing :  which  if  they  follow,  with  the  fear  of  God,  they  shall 
very  well  come  to  sufficiency  of  living.  I  wish  also,  with 
all  my  heart,  that  young  Mr.  Robert  Sackville  may  take 
that  fruit  of  this  labor,  that  his  worthy  grandfather  pur- 
posed he  should  have  done ;  and  if  any  other  do  take 
either  profit  or  pleasure  hereby,  they  have  cause  to  thank 
Mr.  Robert  Sackville,  for  whom  specially  this  my  school- 
master was  provided.  And  one  thing  I  would  have  the 
reader  consider  in  reading  this  book,  that  because  no 
schoolmaster  hath  charge  of  any  child,  before  he  enter 
into  his  school ;  therefore  I  leaving  all  former  care,  of 
their  v<good  bringing  up,  to  wise  and  good  parents,  as  a 
matter  not  belonging  to  the  schoolmaster,  I  do  appoint 
this  my  schoolmaster  then,  and  there  to  begin,  where  his 
office  and  charge  beginneth.  Which  charge  lasteth  not 
long,  but  until  the  scholar  be  made  able  to  go  to  the  Uni- 
versity, to  proceed  in  logic,  rhetoric,  and  other  kinds  of 
learning.  Yet  if  my  schoolmaster,  for  love  he  beareth  ta 
his  scholar,  shall  teach  him  somewhat  for  his  furtherance,, 
and  better  judgment  in  learning,  that  may  serve  him  seven 
years  after  in  the  University,  he  doth  his  scholar  no  more 
wrong,  nor  deserveth  no  worse  name  thereby,  than  he 
doth  in  London,  who  selling  silk,  or  cloth,  unto  his  friend,, 
doth  give  him  better  measure  than  either  his  promise  or 
bargain  was. 

"  Farewell  in  Christ." 


EXTRACTS   FROM    "THE   SCHOLE- 
MASTER." 


"  WITH  the  common  use  of  teaching  and  beating  in 
•  common  schools  of  England,  I  will  not  greatly  contend ; 
which  if  I  did,  it  were  but  a  small  grammatical  contro- 
versy, neither  belonging  to  heresy  nor  treason,  nor  greatly 
touching  God  nor  the  Prince ;  although  in  very  deed,  in 
the  end,  the  good  or  ill  bringing  up  of  children,  doth  as 
much  serve  to  the  good  or  ill  service  of  God,  our  Prince, 
and  our  whole  country,  as  any  one  thing  doth  beside. 

"  I  do  gladly  agree  with  all  good  Schoolmasters  in  these 
points ;  to  have  children  brought  to  good  perfectness  in 
learning;  to  all  honesty  in  manners;  to  have  all  faults 
rightly  amended;  to  have  every  vice  severally  corrected : 
but  for  the  order  and  way  that  leadeth  rightly  to  these 
points,  we  somewhat  differ.  For  commonly,  many  school- 
masters, some,  as  I  have  seen,  more,  as  I  have  heard  tell, 
be  of  so  crooked  a  nature,  as,  when  they  meet  with  a  hard- 
witted  scholar,  they  rather  break  him  than  bow  him, 
rather  mar  him  than  mend  him.  For  when  the  school- 
master is  angry  with  some  other  matter,  then  will  he 
soonest  fall  to  beat  his  scholar ;  and  though  he  himself 
should  be  punished  for  his  folly,  yet  must  he  beat  some 

46 


ROGER  ASCHAM.  47 

scholar  for  his  pleasure,  though  there  be  no  cause  for  him 
to  do  so,  nor  yet  fault  in  the  scholar  to  deserve  so."  .  .  . 
"And  one  example,  whether  love  or  fear  doth  work 
more  in  a  child  for  virtue  and  learning,  I  will  gladly  re- 
port, which  may  be  heard  with  some  pleasure,  and  fol- 
lowed with  more  profit.  Before  I  went  into  Germany,  I 
came  to  Brodegate  in  Leicestershire,  to  take  my  leave  of 
that  noble  Lady  Jane  Grey,  to  whom  I  was  exceeding 
much  beholden.  Her  parents,  the  Duke  and  Duchess, 
with  all  the  household,  Gentlemen  and  Gentlewomen, 
were  hunting  in  the  Park.  I  found  her  in  her  chamber 
reading  Phcedon  Platonis  in  Greek,  and  that  with  as  much 
delight  as  some  gentlemen  would  read  a  merry  tale  in 
Bocacio.  After  salutation,  and  duty  done,  with  some 
other  talk,  I  asked  her  why  she  would  leave  such  pastime 
in  the  Park  ?  Smiling,  she  answered  me  :  '  I  wist,  all 
their  sport  in  the  Park  is  but  a  shadow  to  that  pleas- 
ure that  I  find  in  Plato.  Alas,  good  folk,  they  never 
felt  what  true  pleasure  meant.'  *  And  how  came  you, 
Madame,'  quoth  I,  '  to  this  deep  knowledge  of  pleasure, 
and  what  did  chiefly  allure  you  unto  it ;  seeing,  not  many 
women,  but  very  few  men  have  attained  thereunto  ? '  'I 
will  tell  you,'  quoth  she,  'and  tell  you  a  truth,  which 
perchance  ye  will  marvel  at.  One  of  the  greatest  bene- 
fits that  ever  God  gave  me,  is  that  he  sent  me  so  sharp 
and  severe  Parents,  and  so  gentle  a  schoolmaster.  For 
when  I  am  in  presence  of  either  father  or  mother,  whether 
I  speak,  keep  silence,  sit,  stand,  or  go,  eat,  drink,  be 
merry,  or  sad,  be  sewing,  playing,  dancing,  or  doing  any 
thing  else,  I  must  do  it,  as  it  were,  in  full  weight,  meas- 
ure, and  number,  even  so  perfectly  as  God  made  the 
world,  or  else  I  am  so  sharply  taunted,  so  cruelly  threat- 
ened, yea,  presently  sometimes  with  pinches,  nippes,  and 


48  ROGER  ASCHAM. 

bobbes,  and  other  ways,  which  I  will  not  name,  for  the 
honor  I  bear  them,  so  without  measure,  misordered  that 
I  think  myself  in  hell,  till  time  come  that  I  must  go  to 
M.  Elmer,  who  teacheth  me  so  gently,  so  pleasantly,  with 
such  fair  allurements  to  learning,  that  I  think  all  the  time 
nothing  while  I  am  with  him.  And  when  I  am  called 
from  him,  I  fall  on  weeping,  because  whatsoever  I  do 
else  but  learning,  is  full  of  grief,  trouble,  fear,  and  wholly 
misliking  unto  me.  And  thus  my  book  hath  been  so 
much  my  pleasure,  and  bringeth  daily  to  me  more  pleas- 
ure and  more,  that  in  respect  of  it,  all  other  pleasures,  in 
very  deed,  be  but  trifles  and  troubles  unto  me/  I  remem- 
"ber  this  talk  gladly,  both  because  it  is  so  worthy  of  mem- 
ory, and  because  also  it  was  the  last  talk  that  ever  I  had, 
and  the  last  time  that  ever  I  saw  that  noble  and  worthy 
lady." 

"  But  I  marvel  the  less,  that  these  misorders  be  among 
some  in  the  Court,  for  commonly  in  the  country  also  every- 
where, innocency  is  gone ;  Bashfulness  is  banished ;  much 
presumption  in  youth;  small  authority  in  age;  Reverence 
is  neglected ;  duties  be  confounded ;  and  to  be  short,  dis- 
obedience doth  overflow  the  banks  of  good  order,  almost 
in  every  place,  almost  in  every  degree  of  man." 

"This  last  summer,  I  was  in  a  gentleman's  house, 
where  a  young  child,  somewhat  past  four  years  old,  could 
in  no  wise  frame  his  tongue  to  say  a  little  short  grace : 
and  yet  he  could  roundly  rap  out  so  many  ugly  oaths, 
and  those  of  the  newest  fashion,  as  some  good  man  of 
fourscore  years  old  hath  never  heard  named  before ;  and 
that  which  was  most  detestable  of  all,  his  father  and 
mother  would  laugh  at  it.  I  much  doubt  what  comfort, 


ROGER  ASCHAM.  49 

another  day,  this  child  shall  bring  unto  them.  This  Child 
using  much  the  company  of  serving  men,  and  giving  good 
care  to  their  talk,  did  easily  learn  which  he  shall  hardly 
forget  all  the  days  of  his  life  hereafter:  so  likewise,  in 
the  Court,  if  a  young  Gentleman  will  venture  himself  into 
the  company  of  Ruffians,  it  is  over  great  a  jeopardy,  lest 
their  fashions,  manners,  thoughts,  talk,  and  deeds  will 
very  soon  be  ever  like.  The  confounding  of  companies 
breedeth  confusion  of  good  manners  both  in  the  Court 
and  everywhere  else." 

"  These  be  the  enchantments  of  Circes,  brought  out  of 
Italy,  to  mar  men's  manners  in  England ;  much,  by  ex- 
ample of  ill  life,  but  more  by  precepts  of  fond  books,  of 
late  translated  out  of  Italian  into  English,  sold  in  every 
shop  in  London,  commended  by  honest  titles  the  sooner 
to  corrupt  honest  manners ;  dedicated  over  boldly  to  vir- 
tuous and  honorable  personages,  the  more  easily  to  beguile 
simple  and  innocent  wits.  It  is  pity  that  those  which, 
have  authority  and  charge  to  allow  and  disallow  books  to 
be  printed,  be  no  more  circumspect  herein  than  they  are- 
Ten  Sermons  at  Paul's  Cross  do  not  so  much  good  for 
moving  men  to  true  doctrine,  as  one  of  those  books  do- 
harm,  with  enticing  men  to  ill  living.  Yea  I  say  farther,, 
those  books  tend  not  so  much  to  corrupt  honest  living,, 
as  they  do  to  subvert  true  Religion." 

"  I  had  once  a  proof  hereof,  tried  by  good  experience, 
by  a  dear  friend  of  mine,  when  I  came  first  from  Cam- 
bridge, to  serve  the  Queen's  Majesty,  then  Lady  Eliza- 
beth, lying  at  worthy  Sir  Ant.  Denys  in  Cheston.  John 
Whitney,  a  young  gentleman,  was  my  bed-fellow,  who 
willing  by  good  nature  and  provoked  by  mine  advice, 


50  ROGER  ASCHAM. 

began  to  learn  the  Latin  tongue,  after  the  order  de- 
clared in  this  book.  We  began  after  Christmas  :  I  read 
unto  him  Tullie  de  Amicitia,  which  he  did  every  day 
twice  translate,  out  of  Latin  into  English,  and  out  of 
English  into  Latin  again.  About  St.  Lawrence-tide  J  after, 
to  prove  how  he  profited,  I  did  choose  out  Torquatiis*  talk 
de  Amicitia  in  the  latter  end  of  the  first  book  de  fi nib., 
because  that  place  was  the  same  in  matter,  like  in  words 
and  phrases,  nigh  to  the  form  and  fashion  of  sentences, 
as  he  had  learned  before  in  de  Amicitia.  I  did  translate 
it  myself  into  plain  English,  and  gave  it  him  to  turn  into 
Latin :  which  he  did,  so  choicely,  so  orderly,  so  without 
any  great  miss  in  the  hardest  points  of  Grammar,  that 
some,  in  seven  years  in  Grammar  Schools,  yea,  and  some 
in  the  Universities  too,  cannot  do  half  so  well.  This 
worthy  young  Gentleman,  to  my  greatest  grief,  to  the 
great  lamentation  of  that  whole  house,  and  specially  to 
that  most  noble  Lady,  now  Queen  Elizabeth  herself,  de- 
parted within  few  days,  out  of  this  world. 

"  And  if  in  any  cause  a  man  may  without  offence  of  God 
speak  somewhat  ungodly,  surely,  it  was  some  grief  unto 
me,  to  see  him  hie  so  hastily  to  God,  as  he  did.  A  Court 
full  of  such  young  Gentlemen,  were  rather  a  Paradise 
than  a  Court  upon  earth.  And  though  I  had  never  Poeti- 
cal head,  to  make  any  verse,  in  any  tongue,  yet  either  love, 
or  sorrow,  or  both,  did  wring  out  of  me  then,  certain  care- 
ful thoughts  of  my  good  will  towards  him,  which  in  my 
mourning  for  him,  fell  forth,  more  by  chance,  than  either 
by  skill  or  use,  into  this  kind  of  misorderly  metre :  — 

"  My  own  John  Whitney,  now  farewell,  now  death  doth  part  us  twain. 
No  death,  but  parting  for  a  while,  whom  life  shall  join  again. 
Therefore  my  heart,  cease  sighs  and  sobs,  cease  sorrow's  seed  to  sow, 
Whereof  no  gain,  but  greater  grief,  and  hurtful  care  may  grow. 

1  [August  10.] 


ROGER  ASCHAM.  5  I 

Yet,  when  I  think  upon  such  gifts  of  grace  as  God  him  lent, 
My  loss,  his  gain,  I  must  awhile,  with  joyful  tears  lament. 
Young  years  to  yield  such  fruit  in  Court,  where  seed  of  vice  is  sown, 
Is  sometimes  read,  in  some  place  seen,  amongst  us  seldom  known. 
His  life  he  led,  Christ's  lore  to  learn,  with  will  to  work  the  same : 
He  read  to  know,  and  knew  to  live,  and  lived  to  praise  his  name. 
So  fast  to  friend,  so  foe  to  few,  so  good  to  every  wight, 
I  may  well  wish,  but  scarcely  hope,  again  to  have  in  sight. 
The  greater  joy  his  life  to  me,  his  death  the  greater  pain : 
His  life  in  Christ  so  surely  set,  doth  glad  my  heart  again : 
His  life  so  good,  his  death  better,  do  mingle  mirth  with  care, 
My  spirit  with  joy,  my  flesh  with  grief,  so  dear  a  friend  to  spare. 
Thus  God  the  good,  while  they  be  good,  doth  take  and  leaves  us  ill, 
That  we  should  mend  our  sinful  life,  in  life  to  tarry  still. 
Thus,  we  well  left,  be  better  reft,  in  heaven  to  take  his  place, 
That  by  like  life,  and  death,  at  last,  we  may  obtain  like  grace. 
My  own  John  Whitney,  again  farewell,  awhile  thus  part  in  twain, 
Whom  pain  doth  part  in  earth,  in  heaven,  great  joy  shall  join  again." 


"  And  here,  for  my  pleasure  I  purpose  a  little,  by  the 
way,  to  play  and  sport  with  my  master  Tully,  from  whom 
commonly  I  am  never  wont  to  dissent.  He  himself,  for 
this  point  of  learning,  in  his  verses  doth  halt  a  little  by 
his  leave.  He  could  not  deny  it,  if  he  were  alive,  nor 
those  defend  him  now  that  love  him  best.  This  fault  I 
lay  to  his  charge ;  because  once  it  pleased  him,  though 
somewhat  merrily,  yet  over  uncourteously,  to  rail  upon 
poor  England,  objecting  both  extreme  beggary  and  mere 
barbarousness  unto  it,  writing  thus  unto  his  friend  Atti- 
cus :  *  There  is  not  one  scruple  of  silver  in  that  whole 
Isle,  or  any  one  that  knoweth  either  learning  or  letter.7 

"  But  now,  master  Cicero,  blessed  be  God  and  His  son, 
Jesus  Christ,  whom  you  never  knew,  except  it  were  as  it 
pleased  him  to  lighten  you  by  some  shadow,  as  covertly 
in  one  place  ye  confess  saying,  *  Veritatis  tantum  urn* 


52  ROGER  ASCII  AM. 

bram  confectamurj  as  your  master,  Plato,  did  before 
you:  blessed  be  God,  I  say,  that  sixteen  hundred  year 
after  you  were  dead  and  gone,  it  may  truly  be  said,  that 
for  silver  there  is  more  comely  plate  in  one  city  of  Eng- 
land than  is  in  four  of  the  proudest  Cities  in  all  Italy,  and 
take  Rome  for  one  of  them.  And  for  learning,  beside  the 
knowledge  of  all  learned  tongues  and  liberal  sciences, 
even  your  own  books,  Cicero,  be  as  well  read,  and  your 
excellent  eloquence  is  as  well  liked  and  loved,  and  as 
truly  followed  in  England  at  this  day  as  it  is  now,  or  ever 
was,  since  your  own  time,  in  any  place  of  Italie,  either  at 
Arpinum,  where  you  were  born,  or  else  at  Rome,  where 
ye  were  brought  up.  And  a  little  to  brag  with  you,  Cicero, 
where  you  yourself,  by  your  leave,  halted  in  some  point 
of  learning  in  your  own  tongue ;  many  in  England  at  this 
day  go  straight  up,  both  in  true  skill  and  right  doing 
therein." 

"  SALLUST. 

"  Sallust  is  a  wise  and  worthy  writer,  but  he  requireth 
a  learned  Reader,  and  a  right  considerer  of  him.  My  dear- 
est friend,  and  best  master  that  ever  I  had  or  heard  in 
learning,  Sir  J.  Cheke,  such  a  man,  as  if  I  should  live  to 
see  England  breed  the  like  again,  I  fear  I  should  live 
over  long,  did  once  give  me  a  lesson  for  Sallust,  which  I 
shall  never  forget  myself,  so  it  is  worthy  to  be  remem- 
bered of  all  those  that  would  come  to  perfect  judgment 
of  the  Latin  tongue.  He  said  that  Sallust  was  not  very 
fit  for  young  men  to  learn  out  of  him  the  purity  of  the 
Latin  tongue,  because  he  was  not  the  purest  in  propriety 
of  words,  nor  choicest  in  aptness  of  phrases,  nor  the  best 
in  framing  of  sentences  ;  and  therefore  is  his  writing,  said 
he,  neither  plain  for  the  matter,  nor  sensible  for  men's 


ROGER  ASCHAM.  53 

understanding.  'And  what  is  the  cause  thereof,  sir?' 
Quoth  I.  '  Verily,'  said  he,  'because  in  Sallust's  writing 
is  more  Art  than  nature,  and  more  labor  than  art ;  and  in 
Jiis  labor  also,  too  much  toil,  as  it  were,  with  an  uncon- 
tented care  to  write  better  than  he  could,  a  fault  common 
to  very  many  men.  And,  therefore,  he  doth  not  express 
the  matter  lively  and  naturally  with  common  speech  as  ye 
see  Zenophon  doth  in  Greek,  but  it  is  carried  and  driven 
forth  artificially,  after  so  learned  a  sort,  as  Thucydides 
doth  in  his  orations.'  '  And  how  cometh  it  to  pass,'  said 
I,  '  that  Ctzsar's  and  Cicero's  talk  is  so  natural  and  plain, 
and  Sallust's  writing  so  artificial  and  dark,  when  all  they 
three  lived  in  one  time  ? '  *  I  will  freely  tell  you  my  fancy 
herein,'  said  he :  '  surely  Ccesar  and  Cicero,  beside  a  sin- 
gular prerogative  of  natural  eloquence  given  unto  them 
by  God,  both  two,  by  use  of  life,  were  daily  orators 
among  the  common  people,  and  greatest  counsellors  in 
the  Senate  house ;  and  therefore  gave  themselves  to  use 
such  speech  as  the  meanest  should  well  understand,  and 
the  wisest  best  allow,  following  carefully  that  good  counsel 
of  Aristotle,  "  loquendum  ut  multi,  sapiendum  ut pauci" 
Sallust  was  no  such  man,  neither  for  will  to  goodness,  nor 
skill  by  learning ;  but  ill  given  by  nature,  and  made  worse 
by  bringing  up,  spent  the  most  part  of  his  youth  very 
inisorderly  in  riot  and  revelling.  In  the  company  of  such, 
who,  never  giving  their  mind  to  honest  doing,  could  never 
inure  their  tongue  to  wise  speaking.  But  at  the  last  com- 
ing to  better  years,  and  buying  wit  at  the  dearest  hand, 
that  is,  by  long  experience  of  the  hurt  and  shame  that 
cometh  of  mischief,  moved  by  the  counsel  of  them  that 
were  wise,  and  carried  by  the  example  of  such  as  were 
good,  first  fell  to  honesty  of  life,  and  after  to  the  love  to 
study  and  learning ;  and  so  became  so  new  a  man,  that 


54  ROGER  ASCHAM. 

Casar  being  dictator,  made  him  praetor  in  Numidia, 
where  he,  absent  from  his  country,  and  not  inured  with 
the  common  talk  of  Rome,  but  shut  up  in  his  study, 
and  bent  wholly  to  reading,  did  write  the  story  of  the 
Romans.' " 


MEMOIR 

OF 

THOMAS    ARNOLD 

OF  RUGBY,  ENGLAND, 

WITH  SPECIAL  REFERENCE  TO  HIS  LIFE  AND 
WORK   AS   A   TEACHER. 

SELECTED  FROM 

LIFE    AND    CORRESPONDENCE, 

BY 

ARTHUR  PENRHYN  STANLEY. 

(ORIGINALLY  PUBLISHED  IN  LONDON  IN  1845.) 

WITH   AN    INTRODUCTION 

BY 

JAMES   H.  CARLISLE, 

PRESIDENT  OF  WOFFORD  COLLEGE,   SPARTANBURG,   S.C. 


THOMAS  ARNOLD. 

..."  One  of  the  noblest  minds  and  highest  characters  of 
these  days  —  prematurely  taken  from  us,  in  the  middle  of  a 
career  of  usefulness  which  we  believe  we  are  guilty  of  no 
extravagance  in  terming  unparalleled  in  the  line  of  life  which 
Dr.  Arnold  adopted."  —  GLADSTONE,  January,  1843. 

"  We  never  recollect  a  religious  life  which  so  much  affected 
us;  which,  while  reading,  we  wished  so  much  to  make  our 
own ;  revolving  which,  we  can  so  little  justify  ourselves  that 
it  shall  not  be  so."  —  EDINBURGH  REVIEWER,  January,  1845. 


INTRODUCTION. 


ASCHAM,  in  a  letter  dated  in  1550,  laments  the  ruin 
of  grammar  schools  in  England,  and  predicts,  "from 
their  decline,  the  speedy  extinction  of  the  universities." 
This  sentence  may  give  us  a  slight  connection  between 
the  names  of  Ascham  and  Arnold.  In  1567,  the  year 
1  before  Ascham's  death,  Laurence  Sheriff,  a  London 
grocer,  dying,  left  a  small  amount  of  property  to  found 
a  grammar  school  in  Rugby,  his  native  town,  about 
eighty  miles  north-west  of  London.  This  was  a  small 
place  (now  containing  eight  thousand  inhabitants)  in 
Warwickshire,  an  agricultural  county.  The  property 
was  chiefly  in  real  estate  in  London,  yielding  at  first 
only  the  value  of  a  few  hundred  dollars  yearly.  With 
the  growth  of  the  city  the  property  improved,  until, 
in  the  first  part  of  this  century,  it  annually  yielded 
more  than  twenty  thousand  dollars.  The  school,  of 
course,  also  improved  in  some  respects ;  but  it  did 
not  rank  with  the  leading  high  schools,  as  Eton  and 
Westminster.  A  writer  in  "  The  Edinburgh  Review  " 
(January,  1845)  says  that  twenty  years  before  that 
date  Rugby  "  was  the  lowest  and  most  Boeotian  of  the 

57 


$8  INTRODUCTION. 

English  schools."  To-day  its  name  is  a  household 
word  all  over  the  English  world.  In  East  Tennessee 
we  have  an  English  town  bearing  the  familiar  name. 
All  this  sudden  importance  is  due  to  the  life,  labors, 
and  biography  of  the  man  who  was  the  head  master 
there  from  1828  to  1842.  He  followed  Dr.  Wool ;  and 
he  was  followed  by  Dr.  A.  C.  Tait,  who  rose  to  be 
archbishop  of  Canterbury.  But  the  name  of  Thomas 
Arnold  is  better  known  to  general  readers  than  that 
of  either  of  these  distinguished  men.  The  present 
head  master  is  Dr.  T.  W.  J ex- Blake,  who  has  twenty- 
one  assistants. 

He  is  a  bold  man  who  will  undertake  to  improve 
Stanley's  "  Life  of  Arnold,"  or  even  to  condense  it  in 
just  proportion.  Neither  of  these  tasks  is  attempted 
here.  Such  portions  of  the  work  have  been  taken  as 
serve  to  show  Arnold's  work  and  life  as  a  teacher. 
This  could  be  done  only  by  leaving  out  much  valuable 
matter.  The  first  chapter,  giving  his  life  up  to  the 
close  of  his  university  course,  is  given  entire.  From 
the  second  chapter,  containing  his  life  as  a  private 
tutor  preparing  pupils  for  the  university,  a  page  or  two 
of  Stanley's  text  and  some  of  Arnold's  letters  have 
been  omitted.  The  famous  third  chapter,  with  its  full 
record  of  his  Rugby  life,  is  given  at  length,  the  foot- 
notes only  being  omitted.  This  chapter  is  long,  and 
out  of  proportion  to  the  size  of  the  memoir ;  but  no 
careful  reader  will  wish  that  a  page  had  been  left  out. 
Of  the  fourth  chapter,  that  portion  which  describes 
Arnold's  domestic  life  is  retained,  with  specimens  of 


INTRODUCTION.  59 

his  letters.  The  five  following  chapters,  with  letters 
appended  to  each,  are  omitted  entirely.  Our  fifth 
chapter  gives  a  portion  of  the  last  (tenth)  chapter  in 
the  original  work.  It  contains  a  short  reference  to 
the  historical  lectures  at  Oxford,  while  the  touching 
account  of  Arnold's  death  is  given  at  length.  This 
should  never  be  mutilated  or  abridged.  The  late 
Francis  Lieber,  speaking  to  a  pupil  about  that  portion- 
of  the  biography,  said,  literally  with  tears  in  his  eyes,, 
"His  death  was  beautiful."  Nothing  has  been  added 
to  the  work  as  Stanley  wrote  it ;  and  (except  in  a 
single  instance,  where  it  seemed  necessary  to  keep  the 
connection  by  joining  two  sentences,  omitting  a  few 
words  in  one)  not  a  sentence  or  a  word  has  been 
changed.  Throughout  this  memoir,  the  reader  may 
know  that  he  has  the  literal  words  of  the  original 
work,  of  which  scarcely  one-fourth  is  here  given. 

Arnold  died  in  1842;  and  his  biography  first  ap- 
peared in  1845,  when  the  first  edition  was  published 
in  London.  Happy  alike  in  its  subject  and  in  its 
author,  the  work  at  once  attracted  attention  in  the 
reading- world.  It  was  translated  into  several  foreign 
languages.  Perhaps  it  may  be  said  to  mark  an  era  in 
the  art  of  writing  biographies.  In  America,  several 
editions  appeared  in  Boston  and  New  York.  It  was 
noticed  in  the  leading  reviews  of  that  day.  The 
different  religious  magazines  all  agreed  in  praising  the 
skill  of  the  biographer,  while  each  found  something - 
to  approve  and  admire  in  Arnold's  character  and  life.. 
From  the  nature  of  the  case,  many  of  the  readers  of 


*60  INTRODUCTION. 

the  book  had  never  heard  of  Thomas  Arnold  until 
after  he  was  dead.  It  is  not  strange  that  many  of  his 
countrymen  did  not  fully  appreciate  him  while  he  was 
•with  them.  "Chambers's  Encyclopaedia  of  English 
Literature  "  was  published  after  Arnold's  death,  but  its 
earlier  editions  do  not  contain  his  name.  It  is  true, 
the  genius  of  Stanley  made  his  teacher  more  widely 
known  than  he  had  been  during  his  life.  But  the 
enthusiastic  and  discriminating  biographer  was  un- 
usually fortunate  in  his  subject.  The  interest  created 
by  the  work  in  our  country  was  not  transient.  From 
year  to  year,  it  was  noticed  in  the  different  literary  and 
religious  periodicals.  In  1856  a  very  appreciative 
review  appeared  in  Barnard's  "  American  Journal  of 
Education "  by  Professor  Eliot  of  Trinity  College, 
Connecticut.  This  was  accompanied  by  a  likeness, 
which  gave  American  readers  their  first  view  of 
Arnold's  fine  English  face. 

There  arose,  of  necessity,  a  demand  for  some  of  the 
^writings  of  the  great  Rugby  teacher.  His  inaugural 
lectures  at  Oxford  appeared  in  New  York,  with  notes 
by  Professor  Reed,  in  1845.  A  volume  of  miscella- 
nies and  three  volumes  of  -sermons  were  also  repub- 
lished.  In  1856  another  of  Arnold's  pupils  showed 
to  the  world  a  lifelike  view  of  their  beloved  friend 
and  teacher.  Thomas  Hughes  gave  to  all  English- 
: reading  boys  a  lasting  treasure  in  "Tom  Brown  at 
Rugby."  This  little  book  seems  likely  to  go  down  to 
the  next  generation,  stirring  the  hearts  of  the  school- 
boys everywhere,  and  helping  them  to  lead  pure  and 


INTRODUCTION.  6 1 

manly  lives.  A  few  months  ago  the  "  St.  Nicholas  "' 
magazine  had  two  illustrated  articles  on  Rugby  School,, 
which  were,  no  doubt,  welcome  to  thousands  who  wish 
to  see  the  places  and  the  games  associated  in  their 
pleasant  memories  of  "Tom  and  Arthur." 

More  than  forty  years  have  passed  since  Stanley 's- 
work  first  appeared.  Every  generation  has  its  own 
heroes,  and  its  own  biographies,  bearing  the  "  form 
and  pressure  of  the  times."  Not  many  biographies  go 
down  to  a  second  or  third  generation  of  readers.  A 
magazine  of  February,  1886,  has  a  list  of  special  works 
of  the  kind,  recommended  to  young  ministers  by  Dr.. 
Lyman  Abbot.  Among  them  are,  Boswell's  "  Life  of 
Johnson,"  and  Stanley's  "  Life  of  Arnold."  There 
seems  to  be  a  place  still  in  our  current  literature  for 
this  standard  work.  Several  circumstances  may  com- 
bine to  give  it  room  among  books  that  are  now  read. 
The  visits  of  Dean  Stanley,  Matthew  Arnold,  and 
Thomas  Hughes  to  our  country,  and  the  Rugby  colony 
of  Englishmen,  may  have  this  effect  in  some  degree. 
The  popularity  of  "Tom  Brown"  will  certainly  pre- 
pare the  way.  Many  boys  who  have  cried  with  "  Tom  " 
because  his  fishing-frolic  on  that  summer  day  in  1842 
was  so  sadly  brought  to  an  end,  will  wish  to  learn 
something  more  about  the  man  over  whose  grave  their 
young  hero  stood  and  wept.  This  little  memoir  will 
do  its  desired  work  in  the  case  of  every  reader  who 
lays  it  down,  wishing  to  read  the  large  biography.  It 
is  an  era  in  the  history  of  any  young  teacher  when  he 
becomes  familiar  with  the  "  Life  of  Thomas  Arnold/' 


62  INTRODUCTION. 

This  will  suggest  a  special  reason  why  such  a  volume 
may  appropriately  find  its  place  in  our  educational 
literature.  Many  young  teachers  are  eagerly  search- 
ing for  books  to  help  them  in  their  daily  work.  Teach- 
ers' institutes  are  common.  Teachers'  reading-circles 
are  formed  in  many  communities.  These  are  all  en- 
couraging signs.  They  make  it  the  more  important, 
that  our  teachers  shall  be  guarded  against  some  com- 
mon mistakes.  There  are  so  many  helps  just  now  for 
them,  they  may  be  led  to  think  that  good  teaching,  in 
the  widest  sense,  is  an  art  that  can  be  readily  taught 
by  an  expert.  They  must  be  reminded  that  there  is 
no  short  or  royal  road  to  good  teaching,  other  than 
the  king's  highway  of  good  living.  He  who  wishes  to 
teach  well,  must,  first  of  all,  try  to  live  well.  He  who 
wishes  to  do  something  in  his  chosen  life-work,  must 
aim  to  be  something.  He  who  wishes  to  have  a  good 
influence,  must  first  be  a  good  influence.  To  teach  a 
child  to  read,  to  write,  to  cipher,  is  something.  It  may 
be  a  great  deal.  But  to  teach  him  to  live  is  far  more. 
To  think,  to  reason,  to  love  truth,  and  to  search  for 
truth ;  to  love  the  right,  and  pursue  it,  alone  if  need 
be ;  to  love  all  that  is  lovely,  and  to  hate  only  that 
which  is  hateful,  —  this  is  not  so  easy  as  to  turn  Latin 
into  English,  or  to  do  problems  in  algebra.  All  this 
the  teacher  of  to-day  may  forget  in  his  search  after 
technical  skill  in  handling  the  machinery  of  the  school- 
room, or  in  his  haste 'to  prepare  the  boy  for  a  close 
competitive  examination.  He  may  be  satisfied  if  he 
gives  the  boy  some  outside  finish,  as  the  barber  is 


INTRODUCTION.  63 

satisfied  if,  cutting  the  boy's  hair,  he  "turns  out  a 
nice  job."  No  fresh  work  in  pedagogics  can  render 
the  record  of  a  life  like  Arnold's  useless.  Here  is  an 
object-lesson,  which  the  teachers  of  this  generation  and 
the  next  may  study  with  growing  interest.  Let  all 
labor-saving  and  labor-utilizing  expedients  be  multi- 
plied in  the  schoolroom.  Make  your  educational  ma- 
chinery as  ingenious  and  as  effective  as  possible.  But 
the  vital  question  still  recurs,  "  What  force  is  to  move 
all  this?"  The  teacher  is  greater  than  all  machinery, 
and  the  man  is  greater  than  the  teacher.  The  teacher 
is  only  one  side  of  the  man.  Without  regard  to  the 
routine  or  usages  of  Rugby  School,  the  life  of  the 
Rugby  teacher  will  quicken  and  help  every  other 
teacher.  Let  us  take  a  few  extracts  from  letters  not 
published  in  this  memoir  :  — 

"  The  school  will  become  more  and  more  engrossing ;  and  so 
it  ought  to  be,  for  it  is  impossible  ever  to  do  enough  in  it.  Yet 
I  think  it  essential  that  I  should  not  give  up  my  own  reading, 
as  I  always  find  any  addition  of  knowledge  always  to  turn  to 
account  for  the  school  in  some  way  or  other." 

"  Meantime,  I  write  nothing,  and  read  barely  enough  to  keep 
my  mind  in  the  state  of  a  running  stream,  which  I  think  it 
ought  to  be,  if  it  would  form  and  feed  other  minds ;  for  it  is 
ill  drinking  out  of  a  pond  whose  stock  of  water  is  merely  the 
remains  of  the  long-past  rains  of  the  winter  and  spring,  evapo- 
rating and  diminishing  with  every  successive  day  of  drought." 

"  A  schoolmaster's  intercourse  is  with  the  young,  the  strong, 
and  the  happy ;  and  he  cannot  get  on  with  them,  unless  in  ani- 
mal spirits  he  can  sympathize  with  them,  and  show  them  that 
his  thoughtfulness  is  not  connected  with  selfishness  and  weak- 
ness." 


64  INTRODUCTION. 

As  this  short  memoir  is  taken  up  wholly  with  Arnold 
as  a  teacher,  it  may  be  well  to  refer  here  briefly  to 
other  sides  of  his  strong  character,  which  are  fully 
brought  out  in  the  biography.  He  was  a  preacher, 
and  the  author  of  several  volumes  of  published  ser- 
mons. He  lived  at  a  time  when  the  religious  mind  of 
the  Established  Church  and  of  other  circles  was  deeply 
stirred.  Arnold  could  not  be  either  a  neutral  or  a 
partisan  on  any  important  question.  He  could  doubt, 
or  suspend  his  opinion,  but  he  could  not  be  indifferent. 
We  have  nothing  to  do  now  with  his  peculiar  views  as 
a  theologian.  Our  only  purpose  is  to  call  attention  to 
the  style  and  general  spirit  of  his  sermons.  His  first 
volume  was  published  in  1828,  soon  after  reaching 
Rugby.  In  the  preface  he  says,  — 

"  My  object  has  been,  to  bring  the  great  principles  of  the 
gospel  home  to  the  hearts  and  practices  of  my  own  country- 
men, in  my  own  time,  and  particularly  to  those  of  my  own  sta- 
tion in  society,  with  whose  sentiments  and  language  I  am 
naturally  most  familiar.  And  for  this  purpose,  I  have  tried  to 
write  in  such  a  style  as  might  be  used  in  real  life,  in  serious 
conversation  with  our  friends,  or  with  those  who  asked  our  ad- 
vice ;  in  the  language,  in  short,  of  common  life,  and  applied  to 
the  cases  of  common  life,  but  ennobled  and  strengthened  by 
those  principles  and  feelings  which  are  to  be  found  only  in  the 
gospel." 

Might  not  these  words  stand  as  an  exact  description 
of  the  style  of  some  great  evangelists  who  just  now  are 
drawing  the  multitudes  after  them  ? 

Julius  Hare  says  of  Arnold,  as  a  preacher,  "  I  do 


INTRODUCTION.  6$ 

not  mean  to  profess  an  entire  agreement  with  all  his 
opinions :  on  many  points  we  differed  more  or  less ; 
but  whether  differing  or  agreeing,  when  I  turn  from  the 
ordinary  theological  or  religious  writers  of  the  day,  to 
one  of  his  volumes,  there  is  a  feeling,  as  it  were,  of 
breathing  the  fresh  mountain  air  after  having  been 
shut  up  in  the  morbid  atmosphere  of  a  sick-room,  or 
in  the  fumigated  vapors  of  an  Italian  church." 

Arnold  was  an  intelligent  Englishman,  a  devoted 
lover  of  his  country  and  its  free  institutions.  He  fin- 
ished his  university  course  in  the  memorable  year  in 
which  the  battle  of  Waterloo  was  fought.  His  whole 
life  was  covered  by  a  season  of  excitement  and  com- 
motion in  English  history.  Two  years  before  his  death, 
he  wrote  to  a  friend,  "  The  state  of  the  times  is  so  griev- 
ous, that  it  really  pierces  through  all  private  happiness, 
and  haunts  me  daily  like  a  personal  calamity."  He 
felt  much,  thought  much,  and  wrote  much  on  public 
questions.  He  paid  the  usual,  perhaps  the  inevitable,, 
penalty  of  having  strong  personal  convictions.  He 
was  not  spared  that  discipline  which  puts  the  finest 
finish  to  heart  and  character.  He  was  misunderstood 
and  reviled.  When  assailed,  he  could  not  utter  the 
party  pass-word  which  brings  eager  clansmen  to  the 
relief.  He  spoke  on  the  subject  of  parties,  with  an 
earnestness  not  easily  understood  by  many  then  or 
now.  For  example  :  Writing  to  a  friend  in  1833,  ne 
says,  "  May  God  grant  to  my  sons,  if  they  live  to  man- 
hood, an  unshaken  love  of  truth,  and  a  firm  resolution 
to  follow  it  for  themselves,  with  an  intense  abhorrence 


66  INTRODUCTION. 

of  all  party  ties,  save  that  one  tie  which  binds  them 
to  the  party  of  Christ  against  wickedness  ! '  Again,  in 
one  of  his  sermons,  — 

"  Be  of  one  party  to  the  death,  and  that  is  Christ's ;  but 
abhor  every  other.  Abhor  it ;  that  is,  as  a  thing  to  which  to 
join  yourselves  :  for  every  party  is  mixed  up  of  good  and  evil, 
of  truth  and  falsehood;  and  in  joining  it,  therefore,  you  join 
with  the  one  as  well  as  the  other.  If  circumstances  should 
occur  which  oblige  you  practically  to  act  with  any  one  party, 
as  the  least  of  two  evils,  then  watch  yourselves  the  more  lest 
the  least  of  two  evils  should,  by  any  means,  commend  itself  at 
last  to  your  mind  as  a  positive  good.  Join  it  with  a  sad  and 
reluctant  heart,  protesting  against  its  evil,  dreading  its  victory, 
far  more  pleased  to  serve  it  by  suffering  than  by  acting ;  for  it 
is  in  Christ's  cause  only  that  we  can  act  with  heart  and  soul, 
as  well  as  patiently  and  triumphantly  suffer.  Do  this  amidst 
reproach  and  suspicion  and  cold  friendship  and  zealous  enmity  j 
for  this  is  the  portion  of  those  who  seek  to  follow  their  Master, 
and  him  only.  Do  it,  although  your  foes  be  they  of  your  own 
household,  those  whom  nature  or  habit  or  choice  had  once 
bound  to  you  most  closely.  And  then  you  will  understand 
how,  even  now,  there  is  a  daily  cross  to  be  taken  up  by  those 
who  seek  not  to  please  men,  but  God ;  yet  you  will  learn  no 
less  how  that  cross,  meekly  and  firmly  borne,  whether  it  be  the 
cross  of  men's  ill  opinion  from  without,  or  of  our  own  evil 
nature  struggled  against  within,  is  now,  as  ever,  peace  and  wis- 
dom and  sanctification  and  redemption  through  him  who  first 
bore  it." 

Arnold  published  a  critical  edition  of  Thucydides, 
and  was  writing  a  history  of  Rome.  He  was  planning, 
for  many  years,  a  work  on  "Church  and  State,"  or 
"  Christian  Politics,"  which  is  touchingly  alluded  to  in 
ihe  last  lines  traced  by  his  pen,  a  few  hours  before  his 


INTRODUCTION.  6/ 

death.  While  in  the  "  full  activity  of  zeal  and  power," 
he  fell  in  his  prime.  Two  years  before  his  death,  a 
friend  called  his  attention  to  the  fact  that  a  number 
of  prominent  men  had  died  at  the  age  of  forty-seven 
(Philip  of  Macedon,  Addison,  William  Jones,  Nelson, 
Pitt) ,  and  said  to  him,  "  Beware  of  your  forty-seventh 
year."  He  died  at  that  age.  When  Stephen  Olin 
learned  from  an  item  in  a  newspaper  of  Arnold's 
death,  he  said,  with  emotion,  "  I  am  just  at  the  age  at 
which  he  died."  When  he  read  Stanley's  "  Life,"  a 
year  or  two  later,  he  was  moved  to  tears.  These  two 
great  men  lived  in  different  continents,  moved  in  differ- 
ent religious  circles,  and  never  met.  They  had  much 
in  common,  added  to  their  kindred  pursuits  as  devoted 
teachers.  They  were  alike  in  the  plain  simplicity  and 
great  purity  of  life  and  character,  and  in  their  deep 
love  and  loyalty  to  Him  whose  name  was  so  often  on 
their  lips  in  prayer  and  praise. 

Such  are  a  few  points  in  the  history  of  the  man 
whose  life  is  so  lovingly  and  so  truthfully  portrayed  by 
the  hand  of  his  pupil.  It  seems  appropriate  every 
way  that  the  increasing  Chautauquan  brotherhood 
should  be  invited  to  study  the  life  of  one  who  took 
an  abiding  interest  in  the  welfare  of  all  classes,  and  in 
all  kindly  intercourse  between  the  rich  and  poor.  If 
alive  to-day  in  our  midst,  we  may  well  believe  that 
Arnold  would  give  his  aid  to  an  enterprise  which  aims 
to  further  these  great  ends.  Cheap,  safe  reading  for 
the  masses  was  a  great  desire  with  him.  He  once 
wrote  to  a  friend,  "  I  never  wanted  articles  on  religious 


68  INTRODUCTION. 

subjects  half  so  much  as  articles  on  common  subjects, 
written  with  a  decidedly  Christian  tone." 

Stanley's  life  was  greatly  influenced  by  Arnold ;  and 
nobly  has  he,  at  least,  recognized  a  debt  which  never 
can  be  fully  repaid.  It  is  touching  now  to  read  the 
letters  of  his  anxious  mother,  when  seeking  a  good 
school  for  her  timid,  bright  little  Arthur.  She  was 
advised  to  write  to  the  new  head  master  at  Rugby. 
She  did  so,  and  the  answer  satisfied  her :  she  had  met 
"  the  teacher  who  would  take  kindly  to  Arthur,  and  to 
whom  Arthur  would  take  kindly."  Arthur  was  sent 
away  to  school ;  and  in  a  few  months,  of  course,  the 
child-sick  mother  must  visit  the  home-sick  boy.  Here 
is  a  passage  worth  quoting  from  her  pen  :  — 

"  March,  1829.  —  We  went  to  dine  with  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Arnold ; 
and  they  are  of  the  same  opinion,  that  Arthur  was  as  well  off 
and  as  happy  as  he  could  be  at  a  public  school :  and,  on  the 
whole,  I  am  satisfied,  —  quite  satisfied,  considering  all  things, 

—  for  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Arnold  are  indeed  delightful.     She  was  ill, 
but  still  animated  and  lively.     He  has  a  very  remarkable  coun- 
tenance, something  in  forehead,  and  again  in  manner,  which 
puts  me  in  mind  of  Reginald  Heber ;  and  there  is  a  mixture  of 
zeal,  energy,  and  determination,  tempered  with  wisdom,  candor, 
and  benevolence,  both  in  manner  and  in  every  thing  he  says. 
He  had  examined  Arthur's  class,  and  said  Arthur  had  done 
very  well,  and  the  class  generally.     He  said  he  was  gradually 
reforming,  but  that  it  was  like  pasting  down  a  piece  of  paper, 

—  as  fast  as  one  corner  was  put  down,  another  started  up. 
*  Yes,'  said  Mrs.  A.,  *  but  Dr.  Arnold  always  thinks  the  corner 
will  not  start  again?    And  it  is  that  happy,  sanguine  tempera- 
ment which  is  so  particularly  calculated  to  do  well  in  this,  or 
indeed  any,  situation."  —  AUGUSTUS  J.  C.  HARE. 


INTRODUCTION.  69 

Arthur  must  have  done  very  well  on  more  than  one 
occasion.  He  took  five  medals,  all  that  were  open  to 
him  in  his  Rugby  course.  When  delivering  the  last, 
the  teacher  quietly  handed  it  to  him,  saying,  "  Thank 
you,  Stanley:  we  have  nothing  more  to  give  you." 
Stanley  carried  away  from  Rugby  that  which  is  better 
than  all  medals,  or  even  than  all  scholarship.  He  had, 
for  life,  an  intense  admiration  for  goodness  and  truth, 
as  he  had  seen  them  embodied.  At  thirty  years  of 
age  he  wrote  the  great  biography,  which,  if  he  had 
written  nothing  else,  would  give  him  a  high  place  in 
English  literature.  More  than  thirty  other  publications 
of  all  sizes  show  his  industry  and  zeal.  His  theologi- 
cal views  are  not  now  before  us,  for  passing  words  of 
either  praise  or  blame.  His  name  will  be  long  asso- 
ciated with  that  of  his  great  teacher.  When  in  Balti- 
more, in  1878,  Dean  Stanley  said,  in  a  public  address, 
"  The  lapse  of  years  has  only  served  to  deepen  in  me 
the  conviction  that  no  gift  can  be  more  valuable  than 
the  recollection  and  inspiration  of  a  great  character 
working  on  our  own.  I  hope  you  may  all  experience 
this  at  some  time  in  your  life,  as  I  have  done."  On 
his  death-bed,  three  years  later,  he  said  of  Westminster 
Abbey,  "  I  have  labored  amidst  many  frailties,  and 
with  much  weakness,  to  make  this  institution  more  and 
more  the  great  centre  of  religious  and  national  life  in 
a  truly  liberal  spirit."  That  rich  fruit  was  from  seed 
planted  at  Rugby. 

An  admirable  little  volume  of  Stanley's  quotable 
passages  has  been  recently  published  by  Lothrop  & 


7O  INTRODUCTION. 

Co.,  Boston.  In  it,  a  specimen  of  Stanley's  handwrit- 
ing is  given  in  facsimile,  very  unlike  the  hand  which 
Roger  Ascham  would  have  taught  him.  The  sentence 
is  this :  — 

"  It  will  be  a  great  pleasure  to  me  if  any  words  of  mine  can 
assist  the  rising  generation  of  the  United  States  to  fulfil  the 
duties,  and  solve  the  problems,  of  the  age  in  which  we  live." 

Let  many  young  teachers  in  this  generation  come 
within  the  spell  of  Stanley's  admiration  for  Arnold. 
Let  our  colleges  and  schools  be  filled  with  men,  who, 
in  their  sphere,  will  try  to  catch  the  spirit  of  Arnold's 
life.  Pupils  taught  by  such  men  will  scarcely  fail  to 
seek  for  the  blessing  of  God  upon  themselves  and 
their  generation.  With  that  blessing,  we  may  hope 
they  will  be  ready  in  some  good  degree  to  solve  the 
problems,  and  to  meet  the  unanswered  questions,  which 
the  twentieth  century  will  very  soon  lay  before  them. 

JAS.   H.   CARLISLE. 

SPARTANBURG,  S.C.,  April  20,  1886. 


THE 

LIFE  OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,  D.D. 


CHAPTER  I. 

EARLY   LIFE  AND   EDUCATION. 

THOMAS  ARNOLD,  seventh  child  and  youngest  son 
of  William  and  Martha  Arnold,  was  born  on  June  13, 
1795,  at  West  Cowes,  in  the  Isle  of  Wight,  where  his 
family  had  been  settled  for  two  generations,  their  ori- 
ginal residence  having  been  at  Lowestoff,  in  Suffolk. 

His  father,  who  was  collector  of  the  customs  at 
Cowes,  died  suddenly  of  spasm  in  the  heart,  on  March 
3,  1 80 1.  His  two  elder  brothers,  William  and  Mat- 
thew, died,  the  first  in  1806,  the  second  in  1820.  His 
sisters  all  survived  him,  with  the  exception  of  the  third, 
Susannah,  who,  after  a  lingering  complaint  in  the 
spine,  died  at  Laleham,  in  1832. 

His  early  education  was  confided  by  his  mother  to 
her  sister,  Miss  Delafield,  who  took  an  affectionate 
pride  in  her  charge,  and  directed  all  his  studies  as  a 
child.  In  1803  he  was  sent  to  Warminster  School, 

71 


72  LIFE   OF   THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

in  Wiltshire,  under  Dr.  Griffiths,  with  whose  assistant 
master,  Mr.  Lawes,  he  kept  up  his  intercourse  long 
after  they  had  parted.  In  1807  he  was  removed  to 
Winchester,  where,  having  entered  as  a  commoner, 
and  afterwards  become  a  scholar  of  the  college,  he 
remained  till  1811.  In  after-life  he  always  cherished 
a  strong  Wykehamist  feeling,  and,  during  his  head- 
mastership  at  Rugby,  often  recurred  to  his  knowledge, 
there  first  acquired,  of  the  peculiar  constitution  of  a 
public  school,  and  to  his  recollection  of  the  tact  in 
managing  boys  shown  by  Dr.  Goddard,  and  the  skill 
in  imparting  scholarship  which  distinguished  Dr. 
Gabell,  who,  during  his  stay  there,  were  successively 
head  masters  of  Winchester. 

He  was  then,  as  always,  of  a  shy  and  retiring  dispo- 
sition ;  but  his  manner  as  a  child,  and  till  his  entrance 
at  Oxford,  was  marked  by  a  stiffness  and  formality  the 
very  reverse  of  the  joyousness  and  simplicity  of  his 
later  years  :  his  family  and  schoolfellows  both  remem- 
ber him  as  unlike  those  of  his  own  age,  and  with  pecul- 
iar pursuits  of  his  own ;  and  the  tone  and  style  of  his 
early  letters,  which  have  been  for  the  most  part  pre- 
served, are  such  as  might  naturally  have  been  produced 
by  living  chiefly  in  the  company  of  his  elders,  and 
reading,  or  hearing  read  to  him  before  he  could  read 
himself,  books  suited  to  a  more  advanced  age.  His 
boyish  friendships  were  strong  and  numerous.  It  is 
needless  here  to  enumerate  the  names  of  those  Win- 
chester schoolfellows  of  whose  after-years  it  was  the 
pride  and  delight  to  watch  the  course  of  their  com- 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.  73 

panion  through  life ;  but  the  fond  recollections,  which 
were  long  cherished  on  both  sides,  of  his  intercourse 
with  his  earliest  friend  at  Warminster,  of  whom  he  saw 
and  heard  nothing  from  that  time  till  he  was  called 
upon  in  1829  to  write  his  epitaph,  is  worth  record- 
ing, as  a  remarkable  instance  of  strong  impressions 
of  nobleness  of  character,  early  conceived  and  long 
retained. 

Both  as  a  boy  and  a  young  man  he  was  remarkable 
for  a  difficulty  in  early  rising,  amounting  almost  to  a 
constitutional  infirmity ;  and  though  his  after-life  will 
show  how  completely  this  was  overcome  by  habit,  yet 
he  often  said  that  early  rising  was  a  daily  effort  to  him, 
and  that  in  this  instance  he  never  found  the  truth  of 
the  usual  rule,  that  all  things  are  made  easy  by  custom. 
With  this,  however,  was  always  united  great  occasional 
energy ;  and  one  of  his  schoolfellows  gives  it  as  his 
impression  of  him,  that  "  he  was  stiff  in  his  opinions, 
and  utterly  immovable  by  force  or  fraud,  when  he 
made  up  his  mind,  whether  right  or  wrong." 

It  is  curious  to  trace  the  beginnings  of  some  of  his 
later  interests  in  his  earliest  amusements  and  occupa- 
tions. He  never  lost  the  recollection  of  the  impres- 
sion produced  upon  him  by  the  excitement  of  naval 
and  military  affairs,  of  which  he  naturally  saw  and 
heard  much  by  living  at  the  Isle  of  Wight  in  the  time 
of  the  war ;  and  the  sports  in  which  he  took  most  pleas- 
ure, with  the  few  playmates  of  his  childhood,  were  in 
sailing  rival  fleets  in  his  father's  garden,  or  acting  the 
battles  of  the  Homeric  heroes,  with  whatever  imple- 


74  LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

ments  he  could  use  as  spear  and  shield,  and  reciting 
their  several  speeches  from  Pope's  translation  of  the 
Iliad.  He  was  from  his  earliest  years  exceedingly 
fond  of  ballad  poetry,  which  his  Winchester  school- 
fellows used  to  learn  from  his  repetition  before  they 
had  seen  it  in  print ;  and  his  own  compositions  as  a 
boy  all  ran  in  the  same  direction.  A  play  of  this  kind, 
in  which  his  schoolfellows  were  introduced  as  the 
dramatis  persona,  and  a  long  poem  of  "Simon  de 
Montfort,"  in  imitation  of  Scott's  Marmion,  procured 
for  him  at  school,  by  way  of  distinction  from  another 
boy  of  the  same  name,  the  appellation  of  Poet  Arnold. 
And  the  earliest  specimen  of  his  composition  which 
has  been  preserved  is  a  little  tragedy,  written  before 
he  was  seven  years  old,  on  "  Piercy,  Earl  of  Northum- 
berland," suggested  apparently  by  Home's  play  of 
"  Douglas ;  "  which,  however,  contains  nothing  worthy 
of  notice,  except,  perhaps,  the  accuracy  of  orthography, 
language,  and  blank- verse  metre,  in  which  it  is  written, 
and  the  precise  arrangement  of  the  different  acts  and 
scenes. 

But  he  was  most  remarked  for  his  forwardness  in 
history  and  geography.  His  strong  power  of  memory 
(which,  however,  in  later  years  depended  mainly  on 
association) ,  extending  to  the  exact  state  of  the  weather 
on  particular  days,  or  the  exact  words  and  position  of 
passages  which  he  had  not  seen  for  twenty  years, 
showed  itself  very  early,  and  chiefly  on  these  subjects. 
One  of  the  few  recollections  which  he  retained  of  his 
father  was,  that  he  received  from  him,  at  three  years 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,  D.D.  75 

old,  a  present  of  Smollett's  "  History  of  England,"  as 
a  reward  for  the  accuracy  with  which  he  had  gone 
through  the  stories  connected  with  the  portraits  and 
pictures  of  the  successive  reigns ;  and,  at  the  same 
age,  he  used  to  sit  at  his  aunt's  table,  arranging  his 
geographical  cards,  and  recognizing  by  their  shape,  at 
a  glance,  the  different  counties  of  the  dissected  map 
of  England. 

He  long  retained  a  grateful  remembrance  of  the 
miscellaneous  books  to  which  he  had  access  in  the 
school  library  at  Warminster ;  and  when,  in  his  pro- 
fessorial chair  at  Oxford,  he  quoted  Dr.  Priestley's 
"Lectures  on  History,"  it  was  from  his  recollection  of 
what  he  had  there  read  when  he  was  eight  years  old. 
At  Winchester  he  was  a  diligent  student  of  Russell's 
"  Modern  Europe  ;  "  Gibbon  and  Mitford  he  had  read 
twice  over  before  he  left  school;  and  amongst  the 
comments  on  his  reading,  and  the  bursts  of  politi- 
cal enthusiasm  on  the  events  of  the  day  in  which  he 
indulged  in  his  Winchester  letters,  it  is  curious,  as  con- 
nected with  his  later  labors,  to  read  his  indignation 
when  fourteen  years  old,  "at  the  numerous  boasts 
which  are  everywhere  to  be  met  with  in  the  Latin 
writers."  "  I  verily  believe,"  he  adds,  "  that  half  at 
least  of  the  Roman  history  is,  if  not  totally  false,  at 
least  scandalously  exaggerated :  how  far  different  are 
the  modest,  unaffected,  and  impartial  narrations  of 
Herodotus,  Thucydides,  and  Xenophon." 

The  period,  both  of  his  home  and  school  education,  . 
was  too  short  to  exercise  much  influence  upon  his  after- 


76  LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

life.  But  he  always  looked  back  upon  it  with  a  marked 
tenderness.  The  keen  sense  which  he  entertained  of 
the  bond  of  relationship  and  of  early  association  — 
not  the  less  from  the  blank  in  his  own  domestic  recol- 
lections occasioned  by  his  father's  death,  and  his  own 
subsequent  removal  from  the  Isle  of  Wight  — invested 
with  a  peculiar  interest  the  scenes  and  companions  of 
his  childhood.  His  strong  domestic  affections  had 
acted  as  an  important  safeguard  to  him,  when  he  was 
thrown  at  so  early  an  age  into  the  new  sphere  of  an 
Oxford  life ;  and  when,  in  later  years,  he  was  left  the 
head  of  the  family,  he  delighted  in  gathering  round 
him  the  remains  of  his  father's  household,  and  in  treas- 
uring up  every  particular  relating  to  his  birthplace  and 
parentage,  even  to  the  graves  of  the  older  generations 
of  the  family  in  the  parish  church  at  Lowestoff,  and 
the  great  willow-tree  in  his  father's  grounds  at  Slatt- 
woods,  from  which  he  transplanted  shoots  successively 
to  Laleham,  to  Rugby,  and  to  Fox  How.  Every  date 
in  the  family  history,  with  the  alteration  of  heredi- 
tary names,  and  the  changes  of  their  residence,  was 
^carefully  preserved  for  his  children  in  his  own  hand- 
writing ;  and  when  in  after-years  he  fixed  on  the 
^abode  of  his  old  age  in  Westmoreland,  it  was  his  great 
delight  to  regard  it  as  a  continuation  of  his  own  early 
.home  in  the  Isle  of  Wight.  And  when,  as  was  his 
'wont,  he  used  to  look  back  from  time  to  time  over 
the  whole  of  this  period,  it  was  with  the  solemn  feel- 
ing which  is  expressed  in  one  of  his  later  journals, 
^written  on  a  visit  to  the  place  of  his  earliest  school- 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.  77 

education,  in  the  interval  between  the  close  of  his 
life  at  Laleham  and  the  beginning  of  his  work  at 
Rugby.  "  Warminster,  January  5th  [1828] .  I  have  not 
written  this  date  for  more  than  twenty  years;  and  how 
little  could  I  foresee  when  I  wrote  it  last,  what  would 
happen  to  me  in  the  interval.  And  now  to  look  for- 
ward twenty  years  —  how  little  can  I  guess  of  that 
also.  Only  may  He  in  whose  hands  are  time  and  eter- 
nity, keep  me  evermore  His  own ;  that  whether  I  live,, 
I  may  live  unto  Him ;  or  whether  I  die,  I  may  die 
unto  Him ;  may  He  guide  me  with  His  counsel,  and 
after  that  receive  me  to  glory,  through  Jesus  Christ 
our  Saviour." 


In  1811,  in  his  sixteenth  year,  he  was  elected  as  a 
scholar  at  Corpus  Christi  College,  Oxford;  in  1814 
his  name  was  placed  in  the  first  class  in  Litterse  Hu- 
maniores ;  in  the  next  year  he  was  elected  Fellow  of 
Oriel  College ;  and  he  gained  the  Chancellor's  prize 
for  the  two  University  essays,  Latin  and  English,  for 
the  years  1815  and  1817.  Those  who  know  the  influ- 
ence which  his  college  friendships  exercised  over  his. 
after-life,  and  the  deep  affection  which  he  always  bore 
to  Oxford,  as  the  scene  of  the  happiest  recollections 
of  his  youth,  and  the  sphere  which  he  hoped  to  occupy 
with  the  employments  of  his  old  age,  will  rejoice  in  the 
possession  of  the  following  record  of  his  undergraduate 
life  by  that  true  and  early  friend,  to  whose  timely  ad- 
vice, protection,  and  example,  at  the  critical  period 


78  LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,  D.D. 

when  he  was  thrown  with  all  the  spirits  and  the  in- 
experience of  boyhood  on  the  temptations  of  the  uni- 
versity, he  always  said  and  felt,  that  he  had  owed  more 
than  to  any  other  man  in  the  world. 


LETTER  FROM   MR.  JUSTICE  COLERIDGE. 

HEATH'S  COURT,  September,  1843. 

MY  DEAR  STANLEY,  —  When  you  informed  me  of  Mrs.  Ar- 
nold's wish  that  I  would  contribute  to  your  memoir  of  our  dear 
friend,  Dr.  Arnold,  such  recollections  as  I  had  of  his  career  as 
an  undergraduate  at  Oxford,  with  the  intimation  that  they  were 
intended  to  fill  up  that  chapter  in  his  life,  my  only  hesitation 
in  complying  with  her  wish  arose  from  my  doubts  whether  my 
impressions  were  so  fresh  and  true,  or  my  powers  of  expression 
such,  as  to  enable  me  to  do  justice  to  the  subject.  A  true  and 
lively  picture  of  him  at  that  time  would  be,  I  am  sure,  interest- 
ing in  itself ;  and  I  felt  certain  also  that  his  Oxford  residence 
contributed  essentially  to  the  formation  of  his  character  in  after- 
life. My  doubts  remain,  but  I  have  not  thought  them  impor- 
tant enough  to  prevent  my  endeavoring  at  least  to  comply  with 
her  request ;  nor  will  I  deny  that  I  promise  myself  much  pleas- 
ure, melancholy  though  it  may  be,  in  this  attempt  to  recall  those 
days.  They  had  their  troubles,  I  dare  say ;  but  in  retrospect 
they  always  appear  to  me  among  the  brightest  and  least  check- 
ered, if  not  the  most  useful,  which  have  ever  been  vouchsafed 
to  me. 

Arnold  and  I,  as  you  know,  were  undergraduates  of  Corpus 
Christi,  a  college  very  small  in  its  numbers,  and  humble  in  its 
buildings,  but  to  which  we  and  our  fellow-students  formed  an 
attachment  never  weakened  in  the  after-course  of  our  lives.  At 
the  time  I  speak  of,  1809.  and  thenceforward  for  some  few  years, 
it  was  under  the  presidency,  mild  and  inert,  rather  than  pater- 
nal, of  Dr.  Cooke.  His  nephew,  Dr.  Williams,  was  the  vice- 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.  79 

president  and  medical  fellow,  the  only  lay-fellow  permitted  by 
the  statutes.  Retired  he  was  in  his  habits,  and  not  forward  to 
interfere  with  the  pursuits  or  studies  of  the  young  men.  But 
I  am  bound  to  record,  not  only  his  learning  and  good  taste, 
but  the  kindness  of  his  heart,  and  his  readiness  to  assist  them 
by  advice  and  criticism  in  their  compositions.  When  I  wrote 
for  the  Latin-verse  prize  in  1810,  I  was  much  indebted  to  him 
for  advice  in  matters  of  taste  and  Latinity,  and  for  the  pointing 
out  many  faults  in  my  rough  verses. 

Our  tutors  were  the  present  Sedleian  professor,  the  Rev. 
G.  L.  Cooke,  and  the  lately  deceased  president,  the  Rev.  T. 
Bridges.  Of  the  former,  because  he  is  alive,  I  will  only  say 
that  I  believe  no  one  ever  attended  his  lectures  without  learn- 
ing to  admire  his  unwearied  industry,  patience,  and  good  tem- 
per, and  that  few,  if  any,  quitted  his  pupil-room  without  retaining 
a  kindly  feeling  towards  him.  The  recent  death  of  Dr.  Bridges 
would  have  affected  Arnold  as  it  has  me.  He  was  a  most 
amiable  man.  The  affectionate  earnestness  of  his  manner,  and 
his  high  tone  of  feeling,  fitted  him  especially  to  deal  with  young 
men.  He  made  us  always  desirous  of  pleasing  him :  perhaps 
his  fault  was  that  he  was  too  easily  pleased.  I  am  sure  that 
he  will  be  long  and  deeply  regretted  in  the  university 

It  was  not,  however,  so  much  by  the  authorities  of  the  col- 
lege that  Arnold's  character  was  affected,  as  by  its  constitution 
and  system,  and  by  the  residents  whom  it  was  his  fortune  to 
associate  with  familiarly  there.  I  shall  hardly  do  justice  to  my 
subject  unless  I  state  a  few  particulars  as  to  the  former,  and 
what  I  am  at  liberty  to  mention  as  to  the  latter.  Corpus  is  a 
very  small  establishment :  twenty  fellows  and  twenty  scholars, 
with  four  exhibitioners,  form  the  foundation.  No  independent 
members  were  admitted,  except  gentlemen  commoners;  and 
they  were  limited  to  six.  Of  the  scholars,  several  were  bache- 
lors ;  and  the  whole  number  of  students  actually  under  college 
tuition  seldom  exceeded  twenty.  But  the  scholarships,  though 
not  entirely  open,  were  yet  enough  so  to  admit  of  much  com- 
petition ;  their  value,  and,  stili  more,  the  creditable  strictness 


8O  LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

and  impartiality  with  which  the  examinations  were  conducted 
(qualities  at  that  time  more  rare  in  college  elections  than  now), 
insured  a  number  of  good  candidates  for  each  vacancy :  and 
we  boasted  a  more  than  proportionate  share  of  successful  com- 
petitors for  university  honors.  It  had  been  generally  under- 
stood (I  know  not  whether  the  statutes  prescribe  the  practice), 
that,  in  the  examinations,  a  large  allowance  was  made  for 
youth.  Certain  it  was,  that  we  had  many  very  young  candi- 
dates, and  that,  of  these,  many  remarkable  for  early  proficiency 
succeeded.  We  were  then  a  small  society,  the  members  rather 
under  the  usual  age,  and  with  more  than  the  ordinary  propor- 
tion of  ability  and  scholarship.  Our  mode  of  tuition  was  in 
harmony  with  these  circumstances,  not  by  private  lectures,  but 
in  classes  of  such  a  size  as  excited  emulation,  and  made  us 
careful  in  the  exact  and  neat  rendering  of  the  original,  yet  not 
so  numerous  as  to  prevent  individual  attention  on  the  tutor's 
part,  and  familiar  knowledge  of  each  pupil's  turn  and  talents. 
In  addition  to  the  books  read  in  lecture,  the  tutor  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  term  settled  with  each  student  upon  some  book  to 
be  read  by  himself  in  private,  and  prepared  for  the  public 
examination  at  the  end  of  term  in  Hall ;  and  with  this  book, 
something  on  paper,  either  an  analysis  of  it,  or  remarks  upon 
it,  was  expected  to  be  produced,  which  insured  that  the  book 
should  really  have  been  read.  It  has  often  struck  me  since, 
that  this  whole  plan,  which  is  now,  I  believe,  in  common  use 
in  the  university,  was  well  devised  for  the  tuition  of  young  men 
of  our  age.  We  were  not  entirely  set  free  from  the  leading- 
strings  of  the  school :  accuracy  was  cared  for.  We  were  accus- 
tomed to  viva  voce  rendering,  and  vivd,  voce  question  and  answer 
in  our  lecture-room,  before  an  audience  of  fellow-students 
whom  we  sufficiently  respected.  At  the  same  time,  the  addi- 
tional reading,  trusted  to  ourselves  alone,  prepared  us  for 
accurate  private  study,  and  for  our  final  exhibition  in  the 
schools. 

One  result  of  all  these  circumstances  was,  that  we  lived  on 
the  most  familiar  terms  with  each  other.     We  might  be,  indeed 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,  D.D.  8 1 

we  were,  somewhat  boyish  in  manner,  and  in  the  liberties  we 
took  with  each  other :  but  our  interest  in  literature,  ancient  and 
modern,  and  in  all  the  stirring  matters  of  that  stirring  time, 
was  not  boyish ;  we  debated  the  classic  and  romantic  question ; 
we  discussed  poetry  and  history,  logic  and  philosophy ;  or  we 
fought  over  the  Peninsular  battles  and  the  Continental  cam- 
paigns with  the  energy  of  disputants  personally  concerned  in 
them.  Our  habits  were  inexpensive  and  temperate.  One 
break-up  party  was  held  in  the  junior  common  room  at  the 
end  of  each  term,  in  which  we  indulged  our  genius  more  freely* 
and  our  merriment,  to  say  the  truth,  was  somewhat  exuberant 
and  noisy;  but  the  authorities  wisely  forbore  too  strict  an 
inquiry  into  this. 

It  was  one  of  the  happy  peculiarities  of  Corpus,  that  the 
bachelor  scholars  were  compelled  to  residence.  This  regula- 
tion, seemingly  inconvenient,  but  most  wholesome,  as  I  cannot 
but  think  for  themselves,  and  now  unwisely  relaxed,  operated 
very  beneficially  on  the  undergraduates ;  with  the  best  and  the 
most  advanced  of  these,  they  associated  very  usefully :  I  speak 
here  with  grateful  and  affectionate  remembrances  of  the  privi- 
leges which  I  enjoyed  in  this  way. 

You  will  see  that  a  society  thus  circumstanced  was  exactly- 
one  most  likely  to  influence  strongly  the  character  of  such  a 
lad  as  Arnold  was  at  his  election.  He  came  to  us  in  Lent 
Term,  1811,  from  Winchester,  winning  his  election  against 
several  very  respectable  candidates.  He  was  a  mere  boy  in 
appearance  as  well  as  in  age,  but  we  saw  in  a  very  short  time 
that  he  was  quite  equal  to  take  his  part  in  the  arguments  of 
the  common  room;  and  he  was,  I  rather  think,  admitted  by 
Mr.  Cooke  at  once  into  his  senior  class.  As  he  was  equal, 
so  was  he  ready,  to  take  part  in  our  discussions :  he  was  fond 
of  conversation  on  serious  matters,  and  vehement  in  argument ; 
fearless,  too,  in  advancing  his  opinions,  which,  to  say  the  truth, 
often  startled  us  a  good  deal ;  but  he  was  ingenuous  and  can- 
did ;  and  though  the  fearlessness  with  which,  so  young  as  he 
was,  he  advanced  his  opinions  might  have  seemed  to  betoken 


82  LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

presumption,  yet  the  good  temper  with  which  he  bore  retort  or 
rebuke  relieved  him  from  that  imputation;  he  was  bold  and 
warm,  because,  so  far  as  his  knowledge  went,  he  saw  very  clearly, 
and  he  was  an  ardent  lover  of  truth ;  but  I  never  saw  in  him 
even  then  a  grain  of  vanity  or  conceit.  I  have  said  that  some 
of  his  opinions  startled  us  a  good  deal :  we  were  indeed,  for  the 
most  part,  Tories  in  Church  and  State,  great  respecters  of 
things  as  they  were,  and  not  very  tolerant  of  the  disposition 
which  he  brought  with  him  to  question  their  wisdom.  Many 
and  long  were  the  conflicts  we  had,  and  with  unequal  numbers. 
I  think  I  have  seen  all  the  leaders  of  the  common  room  en- 
gaged with  him  at  once,  with  little  order  or  consideration,  as 
may  be  supposed,  and  not  always  with  great  scrupulosity  as  to 
the  fairness  of  our  arguments.  This  was  attended  by  no  loss 
of  regard,  and  scarcely  ever,  or  seldom,  by  even  momentary 
loss  of  temper.  We  did  not  always  convince  him, -7- perhaps 
we  ought  not  always  to  have  done  so,  —  yet  in  the  end  a  consid- 
erable modification  of  his  opinions  was  produced:  in  one  of 
his  letters  to  me,  written  at  a  much  later  period,  he  mentions 
this  change.  In  truth,  there  were  those  among  us  calculated 
to  produce  an  impression  on  his  affectionate  heart  and  ardent, 
ingenuous  mind ;  and  the  rather,  because  the  more  we  saw  of 
him,  and  the  more  we  battled  with  him,  the  more  manifestly 
did  we  respect  and  love  him.  The  feeling  with  which  we 
argued  gave  additional  power  to  our  arguments  over  a  disposi- 
tion such  as  his,  and  thus  he  became  attached  to  young  men 
of  the  most  different  tastes  and  intellects;  his  love  for  each 
taking  a  different  color,  more  or  less  blended  with  respect, 
fondness,  or  even  humor,  according  to  those  differences ;  and 
in  return  they  all  uniting  in  love  and  respect  for  him. 

There  will  be  some  few  to  whom  these  remembrances  will 
speak  with  touching  truth:  they  will  remember  his  single- 
hearted  and  devout  schoolfellow,  who  early  gave  up  his  native 
land,  and  devoted  himself  to  the  missionary  cause  in  India ; 
the  high-souled  and  imaginative,  though  somewhat  indolent, 
lad,  who  came  to  us  from  Westminster ;  one  bachelor,  whose 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.  83 

father's  connection  with  the  House  of  Commons  and  residence 
in  Palace  Yard  made  him  a  great  authority  with  us  as  to  the 
world  without,  and  the  statesmen  whose  speeches  he  sometimes 
heard,  but  we  discussed  much  as  if  they  had  been  personages 
in  history,  and  whose  remarkable  love  for  historical  and  geo- 
graphical research,  and  his  proficiency  in  it,  with  his  clear 
judgment,  quiet  humor,  and  mildness  in  communicating  infor- 
mation, made  him  peculiarly  attractive  to  Arnold ;  and,  above 
all,  our  senior  among  the  undergraduates,  though  my  junior 
in  years,  the  author  of  the  "  Christian  Year,"  who  came  fresh 
from  the  single  teaching  of  his  venerable  father,  and  achieved 
the  highest  honors  of  the  university  at  an  age  when  others 
frequently  are  but  on  her  threshold.  Arnold  clung  to  all  these 
with  equal  fidelity,  but  regarded  each  with  different  feelings : 
each  produced  on  him  a  salutary  but  different  effect.  His  love 
for  all  without  exception,  I  know,  if  I  know  any  thing  of  an- 
other man's  heart,  continued  to  his  life's  end :  it  survived  (how 
can  the  mournful  facts  be  concealed  in  any  complete  and  truth- 
telling  narrative  of  his  life  ?)  separation,  suspension  'of  inter- 
course, and  entire  disagreement  of  opinion,  with  the  last  of 
these,  on  points  believed  by  them  both  to  be  of  essential 
importance.  These  two  held  their  opinions  with  a  zeal  and 
tenacity  proportionate  to  their  importance :  each  believed  the 
other  in  error  pernicious  to  the  faith,  and  dangerous  to  himself : 
and  what  they  believed  sincerely,  each  thought  himself  bound 
to  state,  and  stated  it  openly,  it  may  be  with  too  much  of 
warmth ;  and  unguarded  expressions  were  unnecessarily,  I  think 
inaccurately,  reported.  Such  disagreements  in  opinion  between 
the  wise  and  good  are  incident  to  our  imperfect  state;  and 
even  the  good  qualities  of  the  heart,  earnestness,  want  of  sus- 
picion, may  lay  us  open  to  them :  but,  in  the  case  before  me, 
the  affectionate  interest  with  which  each  regarded  the  other 
never  ceased.  I  had  the  good  fortune  to  retain  the  intimate 
friendship  and  correspondence  of  both ;  and  I  can  testify  with 
authority,  that  the  elder  spoke  and  wrote  of  the  younger  as  an 
elder  brother  might  of  a  younger,  whom  he  tenderly  loved, 


84  LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

though  he  disapproved  of  his  course :  while  it  was  not  in 
Arnold's  nature  to  forget  how  much  he  had  owed  to  Keble ; 
he  bitterly  lamented,  what  he  labored  to  avert,  the  suspension 
of  their  intimate  intercourse :  he  was  at  all  times  anxious  to 
renew  it;  and  although,  where  the  disagreement  turned  on 
points  so  vital  between  men  who  held  each  to  his  own  so  con- 
scientiously, this  may  have  been  too  much  to  expect,  yet  it  is 
a  most  gratifying  thought  to  their  common  friends,  that  they 
would  probably  have  met  at  Fox  How  under  Arnold's  roof 
but  a  few  weeks  after  he  was  called  away  to  that  state  in  which 
the  doubts  and  controversies  of  this  life  will  receive  their  clear 
resolution. 

I  return  from  my  digression.  Arnold  came  to  us,  of  course, 
not  a  formed  scholar,  nor,  I  think,  did  he  leave  the  college 
with  scholarship  proportioned  to  his  great  abilities  and  oppor- 
tunities. And  this  arose,  in  part,  from  the  decided  preference 
which  he  gave  to  the  philosophers  and  historians  of  antiquity 
over  the  poets,  coupled  with  the  distinction  which  he  then 
made,  erroneous  as  I  think,  and  certainly  extreme  in  degree, 
between  words  and  things,  as  he  termed  it.  His  correspond- 
ence with  me  will  show  how  much  he  modified  this,  too,  in 
after-life ;  but  at  that  time  he  was  led  by  it  to  undervalue  those 
niceties  of  language,  the  intimate  acquaintance  with  which  he 
did  not  then  perceive  to  be  absolutely  necessary  to  a  precise 
knowledge  of  the  meaning  of  the  author.  His  compositions, 
therefore,  at  this  time,  though  full  of  matter,  did  not  give  prom- 
ise of  that  clear  and  spirited  style  which  he  afterwards  mas- 
tered :  he  gained  no  verse  prize,  but  was  an  unsuccessful 
competitor  for  the  Latin  Verse  in  the  year  1812,  when  Henry 
Latham  succeeded,  the  third  brother  of  that  house  who  had 
done  so  ;  and  though  this  is  the  only  occasion  on  which  I  have 
any  memorandum  of  his  writing,  I  do  not  doubt  that  he  made 
other  attempts.  Among  us  were  several  who  were  fond  of 
writing  English  verse :  Keble  was  even  then  raising  among  us 
those  expectations  which  he  has  since  so  fully  justified,  and 
Arnold  was  not  slow  to  follow  the  example.  I  have  several 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.  85 

poems  of  his  written  about  this  time,  neat  and  pointed  in  ex- 
pression, and  just  in  thought,  but  not  remarkable  for  fancy  or 
imagination.  I  remember  some  years  after,  his  telling  me  that 
he  continued  the  practice  "  on  principle : "  he  thought  it  a  useful 
and  humanizing  exercise. 

But,  though  not  a  poet  himself,  he  was  not  insensible  of  the 
beauties  of  poetry,  —  far  from  it.  I  reflect  with  some  pleasure, 
that  I  first  introduced  him  to  what  has  been  somewhat  unrea- 
sonably called  the  "  Lake  Poetry ; "  my  near  relation  to  one, 
and  connection  with  another,  of  the  poets,  whose  works  were  so 
called,  were  the  occasion  of  this  :  and  my  uncle  having  sent 
me  the  "  Lyrical  Ballads,"  and  the  first  edition  of  Mr.  Words- 
worth's poems,  they  became  familiar  among  us.  We  were 
proof,  I  am  glad  to  think,  against  the  criticism,  if  so  it  might 
be  called,  of  "  The  Edinburgh  Review : "  we  felt  their  truth  and 
beauty,  and  became  zealous  disciples  of  Wordsworth's  philos- 
ophy. This  was  of  peculiar  advantage  to  Arnold,  whose  lean- 
ing was  too  direct  for  the  practical  and  evidently  useful :  it 
brought  out  in  him  that  feeling  for  the  lofty  and  imaginative 
which  appeared  in  all  his  intimate  conversation,  and  may  be 
seen  spiritualizing  those  even  of  his  writings  in  which,  from 
their  subject,  it  might  seem  to  have  less  place.  You  know  in 
later  life  how  much  he  thought  his  beloved  Fox  How  en- 
hanced in  value  by  its  neighborhood  to  Rydal  Mount,  and 
what  store  he  set  on  the  privilege  of  frequent  and  friendly 
converse  with  the  venerable  genius  of  that  sweet  spot. 

But  his  passion,  at  the  time  I  am  treating  of,  was  for  Aris- 
totle and  Thucydides :  and  however  he  became  some  few 
years  after  more  sensible  of  the  importance  of  the  poets  in 
classic  literature,  this  passion  he  retained  to  the  last;  those 
who  knew  him  intimately,  or  corresponded  with  him,  will  bear 
me  witness  how  deeply  he  was  imbued  with  the  language  and 
ideas  of  the  former ;  how  in  earnest  and  unreserved  conversa- 
tion, or  in  writing,  his  train  of  thoughts  was  affected  by  the 
"  Ethics  "  and  "  Rhetoric ; "  how  he  cited  the  maxims  of  the 
Stagirite  as  oracles,  and  how  his  language  was  quaintly  and 


86  LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

racily  pointed  with  phrases  from  him.  I  never  knew  a  man 
who  made  such  familiar,  even  fond,  use  of  an  author ;  it  is 
scarcely  too  much  to  say,  that  he  spoke  of  him  as  of  one  inti- 
mately and  affectionately  known  and  valued  by  him ;  and  when 
he  was  selecting  his  son's  university,  with  much  leaning  for 
Cambridge,  and  many  things  which  at  the  time  made  him  in- 
cline against  Oxford,  dearly  as  he  loved  her,  Aristotle  turned 
the  scale  :  "  I  could  not  consent,"  said  he,  "  to  send  my  son  to 
a  university  where  he  would  lose  the  study  of  him  altogether.'* 
"  You  may  believe,"  he  said  with  regard  to  the  London  univer- 
sity, "  that  I  have  not  forgotten  the  dear  old  Stagirite  in  our 
examinations ;  and  I  hope  that  he  will  be  construed  and  dis- 
cussed in  Somerset  House  as  well  as  in  the  schools."  His 
fondness  for  Thucydides  first  prompted  a  Lexicon  Thucydi- 
deum,  in  which  he  made  some  progress  at  Laleham  in  1821  and 
1822,  and  ended,  as  you  know,  in  his  valuable  edition  of  that 
author. 

Next  to  these  he  loved  Herodotus.  I  have  said  that  he  was 
not,  while  I  knew  him  at  Oxford,  a  formed  scholar,  and  that 
he  composed  stiffly  and  with  difficulty ;  but  to  this  there  was  a 
seeming  exception :  he  had  so  imbued  himself  with  the  style  of 
Herodotus  and  Thucydides,  that  he  could  write  narratives  in 
the  style  of  either  at  pleasure  with  wonderful  readiness,  and,  as 
we  thought,  with  the  greatest  accuracy.  I  remember,  too,  an 
account  by  him  of  a  "  Vacation  Tour  in  the  Isle  of  Wight," 
after  the  manner  of  the  "  Anabasis." 

Arnold's  bodily  recreations  were  walking  and  bathing.  It 
was  a  particular  delight  to  him,  with  two  or  three  companions, 
to  make  what  he  called  a  skirmish  across  the  country ;  on  these 
occasions  we  deserted  the  road,  crossed  fences,  and  leaped 
ditches,  or  fell  into  them :  he  enjoyed  the  country  round  Ox- 
ford ;  and,  while  out  in  this  way,  his  spirits  would  rise,  and  his 
mirth  overflowed.  Though  delicate  in  appearance,  and  not 
giving  promise  of  great  muscular  strength,  yet  his  form  was 
light,  and  he  was  capable  of  going  long  distances,  and  bearing 
much  fatigue. 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.  87 

You  know,  that,  to  his  last  moment  of  health,  he  had  the 
same  predilections :  indeed,  he  was,  as  much  as  any  I  ever 
knew,  one  whose  days  were 

"  Bound  each  to  each  by  natural  piety." 

His  manner  had  all  the  tastes  and  feelings  of  his  youth,  only 
more  developed  and  better  regulated.  The  same  passion  for 
the  sea  and  shipping,  and  his  favorite  Isle  of  Wight ;  the  same 
love  for  external  nature,  the  same  readiness  in  viewing  the 
characteristic  features  of  a  country  and  its  marked  positions, 
or  the  most  beautiful  points  of  a  prospect,  for  all  which  he  was 
remarkable  in  after-life, — we  noticed  in  him  then.  When  Pro- 
fessor Buckland,  then  one  of  our  fellows,  began  his  career  in 
that  science,  to  the  advancement  of  which  he  has  contributed 
so  much,  Arnold  became  one  of  his  most  earnest  and  intelli- 
gent pupils ;  and  you  know  how  familiarly  and  practically  he 
applied  geological  facts  in  all  his  later  years. 

In  June,  1812,  I  was  elected  fellow  of  Exeter  College,  and 
determined  to  pursue  the  law  as  my  profession :  my  residence 
at  Oxford  was  thenceforward  only  occasional,  but  the  friendship 
which  had  grown  up  between  us  suffered  no  diminution.  Some- 
thing, I  forget  now  the  particular  circumstance,  led  to  an  in- 
terchange of  letters,  which  ripened  into  a  correspondence, 
continued  with  rather  unusual  regularity,  when  our  respective 
occupations  are  considered,  to  within  a  few  days  of  his  death. 
It  may  show  the  opinion  which  I  even  then  entertained  of  him, 
that  I  carefully  preserved  from  the  beginning  every  letter  which 
I  ever  received  from  him :  you  have  had  an  opportunity  of 
judging  of  the  value  of  the  collection. 

After  I  had  ceased  to  reside,  a  small  debating  society,  called 
the  Attic  Society,  was  formed  in  Oxford,  which  held  its  meet- 
ings in  the  rooms  of  the  members  by  turns.  Arnold  was  among 
the  earliest  members,  and  was,  I  believe,  an  embarrassed 
speaker.  This  I  should  have  expected  ;  for,  however  he  might 
appear  a  confident  advancer  of  his  own  opinions,  he  was,  in 


88  LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

truth,  bashful,  and  at  the  same  time  had  so  acute  a  perception 
of  what  was  ill-seasoned  or  irrelevant,  that  he  would  want  that 
freedom  from  restraint  which  is  essential  at  least  to  young 
speakers.  This  society  was  the  germ  of  the  Union,  but  I 
believe  he  never  belonged  to  it. 

In  our  days,  the  religious  controversies  had  not  begun,  by 
which  the  minds  of  young  men  at  Oxford  are,  I  fear,  now  pre- 
maturely and  too  much  occupied:  the  routine  theological 
studies  of  the  University  were,  I  admit,  deplorably  low ;  but 
the  earnest  ones  amongst  us  were  diligent  readers  of  Barrow, 
Hooker,  and  Taylor.  Arnold  was  among  these,  but  I  have  no 
recollection  of  any  thing  at  that  time  distinctive  in  his  religious 
opinions.  What  occurred  afterwards  does  not  properly  fall 
within  my  chapter,  yet  it  is  not  unconnected  with  it;  and  I 
believe  I  can  sum  up  all  that  need  be  said  on  such  a  subject, 
as  shortly  and  as  accurately,  from  the  sources  of  information 
in  my  hands,  as  any  other  person  can.  His  was  an  anxiously 
inquisitive  mind,  a  scrupulously  conscientious  heart:  his  in- 
quiries, previously  to  his  taking  orders,  led  him  on  to  distress- 
ing doubts  on  certain  points  in  the  Articles;  these  were  not 
low  nor  rationalistic  in  their  tendency,  according  to  the  bad 
sense  of  that  term ;  there  was  no  indisposition  in  him  to  believe 
merely  because  the  article  transcended  his  reason ;  he  doubted 
the  proof  and  the  interpretation  of  the  textual  authority.  His 
state  was  very  painful,  and  I  think  morbid;  for  I  remarked 
that  the  two  occasions  on  which  I  was  privy  to  his  distress, 
were  precisely  those  in  which  to  doubt  was  against  his  dearest 
schemes  of  worldly  happiness ;  and  the  consciousness  of  this 
seemed  to  make  him  distrustful  of  the  arguments  which  were 
intended  to  lead  his  mind  to  acquiescence.  Upon  the  first 
occasion  to  which  I  allude,  he  was  a  fellow  of  Oriel,  and  in 
close  intercourse  with  one  of  the  friends  I  have  before  men- 
tioned, then  also  a  fellow  of  the  same  college :  to  him  as  well 
as  to  me  he  opened  his  mind,  and  from  him  he  received  the 
wisest  advice,  which  he  had  the  wisdom  to  act  upon ;  he  was 
bid  to  pause  in  his  inquiries,  to  pray  earnestly  for  help  and 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,  D.D.  89 

light  from  above,  and  turn  himself  more  strongly  than  ever  to 
the  practical  duties  of  a  holy  life  :  he  did  so,  and  through 
severe  trials  was  finally  blessed  with  perfect  peace  of  mind 
and  a  settled  conviction.  If  there  be  any  so  unwise  as  to 
rejoice  that  Arnold,  in  his  youth,  had  doubts  on  important  doc- 
trines, let  him  be  sobered  with  the  conclusion  of  those  doubts, 
when  Arnold's  mind  had  not  become  weaker,  nor  his  pursuit 
of  truth  less  honest  or  ardent,  but  when  his  abilities  were 
matured,  his  knowledge  greater,  his  judgment  more  sober :  if 
there  be  any  who,  in  youth,  are  suffering  the  same  distress 
which  befell  him,  let  his  conduct  be  their  example,  and  the 
blessing  which  was  vouchsafed  to  him,  their  hope  and  consola- 
tion. In  a  letter  from  that  friend  to  myself,  of  the  date  of  Feb. 
14,  1819,  I  find  the  following  extract,  which  gives  so  true  and 
so  considerate  an  account  of  this  passage  in  Arnold's  life,  that 
you  may  be  pleased  to  insert  it. 

"I  have  not  talked  with  Arnold  lately  on  the  distressing 
thoughts  which  he  wrote  to  you  about ;  but  I  am  fearful,  from 
his  manner  at  times,  that  he  has  by  no  means  got  rid  of  them, 
though  I  feel  quite  confident  that  all  will  be  well  in  the  end. 
The  subject  of  them  is  that  most  awful  one,  on  which  all  very 
inquisitive  reasoning  minds  are,  I  believe,  most  liable  to  such 
temptations,  —  I  mean  the  doctrine  of  the  blessed  Trinity.  Do 
not  start,  my  dear  Coleridge  :  I  do  not  believe  that  Arnold 
has  any  serious  scruples  of  the  understanding  about  it ;  but  it 
is  a  defect  of  his  mind,  that  he  cannot  get  rid  of  a  certain  feel- 
ing of  objections  —  and  particularly  when,  as  he  fancies,  the 
bias  is  so  strong  upon  him  to  decide  one  way  from  interest :  he 
scruples  doing  what  I  advise  him,  which  is,  to  put  down  the 
objections  by  main  force  whenever  they  arise  in  his  mind,  fear- 
ful that  in  so  doing  he  shall  be  violating  his  conscience  for 
maintenance'  sake.  I  am  still  inclined  to  think  with  you,  that 
the  wisest  thing  he  could  do  would  be  to  take  John  M.  (a 
young  pupil  whom  I  was  desirous  of  placing  under  his  care) 
and  a  curacy  somewhere  or  other,  and  cure  himself,  not  by 
physic,  —  i.e.,  reading  and  controversy,  —  but  by  diet  and  regi- 


QO  LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

men;  i.e.,  holy  living.  In  the  mean  time,  what  an  excellent 
fellow  he  is !  I  do  think  that  one  might  safely  say,  as  some 
one  did  of  some  other,  '  One  had  better  have  Arnold's  doubts 
than  most  men's  certainties.' " 

I  believe  I  have  exhausted  my  recollections ;  and  if  I  have 
accomplished  as  I  ought,  what  I  proposed  to  myself,  it  will  be 
hardly  necessary  for  me  to  sum  up  formally  his  character  as  an 
Oxford  undergraduate.  At  the  commencement  a  boy,  and  at 
the  close  retaining,  not  ungracefully,  much  of  boyish  spirits, 
frolic,  and  simplicity ;  in  mind  vigorous,  active,  clear-sighted, 
industrious,  and  daily  accumulating  and. assimilating  treasures 
of  knowledge ;  not  averse  to  poetry,  but  delighting  rather  in 
dialectics,  philosophy,  and  history,  with  less  of  imaginative  than 
reasoning  power ;  in  argument  bold  almost  to  presumption, 
and  vehement;  in  temper  easily  roused  to  indignation,  yet 
more  easily  appeased,  and  entirely  free  from  bitterness ;  fired, 
indeed,  by  what  he  deemed  ungenerous  or  unjust  to  others, 
rather  than  by  any  sense  of  personal  wrong;  somewhat  too 
little  deferential  to  authority;  yet  without  any  real  inconsis- 
tency, loving  what  was  good  and  great  in  antiquity  the  more 
ardently  and  reverently  because  it  was  ancient;  a  casual  or 
unkind  observer  might  have  pronounced  him  somewhat  too 
pugnacious  in  conversation,  and  too  positive.  I  have  given, 
I  believe,  the  true  explanation :  scarcely  any  thing  would  have 
pained  him  more  than  to  be  convinced  that  he  had  been  guilty 
of  want  of  modesty,  or  of  deference  where  it  was  justly  due ; 
no  one  thought  these  virtues  of  more  sacred  obligation.  In 
heart,  if  I  can  speak  with  confidence  of  any  of  the  friends  of 
my  youth,  I  can  of  his,  that  it  was  devout  and  pure,  simple, 
sincere,  affectionate,  and  faithful. 

It  is  time  that  I  should  close :  already,  I  fear,  I  have  dwelt 
with  something  like  an  old  man's  prolixity  on  passages  of  my 
youth,  forgetting  that  no  one  can  take  the  same  interest  in  them 
which  I  do  myself ;  that  deep  personal  interest  must,  however, 
be  my  excuse.  Whoever  sets  a  right  value  on  the  events  of 
his  life  for  good  or  for  evil,  will  agree,  that  next  in  importance 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.  9 1 

to  the  rectitude  of  his  own  course  and  the  selection  of  his  part- 
ner for  life,  and  far  beyond  all  the  wealth  or  honors  which  may 
reward  his  labor,  far  even  beyond  the  unspeakable  gift  of 
bodily  health,  are  the  friendships  which  he  forms  in  youth.. 
That  is  the  season  when  natures  soft  and  pliant  grow  together, 
each  becoming  part  of  the  other,  and  colored  by  it :  thus,  to- 
become  one  in  heart  with  the  good  and  generous  and  devout, 
is,  by  God's  grace,  to  become,  in  measure,  good  and  generous 
and  devout.  Arnold's  friendship  has  been  one  of  the  many 
blessings  of  my  life.  I  cherish  the  memory  of  it  with  mourn- 
ful gratitude,  and  I  cannot  but  dwell  with  lingering  fondness 
on  the  scene  and  the  period  which  first  brought  us  together. 
Within  the  peaceful  walls  of  Corpus  I  made  friends,  of  whom 
all  are  spared  me  but  Arnold ;  he  has  fallen  asleep :  but  the 
bond  there  formed,  which  the  lapse  of  years  and  our  differing 
walks  in  life  did  not  unloosen,  and  which  strong  opposition  of 
opinions  only  rendered  more  intimate,  though  interrupted  in 
time,  I  feel  not  to  be  broken,  —  may  I  venture,  without  unsea- 
sonable solemnity,  to  express  the  firm  trust,  that  it  will  endure 
forever  in  eternity ! 


Believe  me,  my  dear  Stanley, 

Very  truly  yours, 


J.  T.  C. 


92  LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 


CHAPTER  II. 

LIFE  AT   LALEHAM. 

THE  society  of  the  Fellows  of  Oriel  College  then,  as 
for  some  time  afterwards,  numbered  amongst  its  mem- 
bers some  of  the  most  rising  men  in  the  university ; 
and  it  is  curious  to  observe  the  list,  which,  when  the 
youthful  scholar  of  Corpus  was  added  to  it,  contained 
the  names  of  Copleston,  Davison,  Whately,  Keble, 
Hawkins,  and  Hampden,  and,  shortly  after  he  left  it, 
those  of  Newman  and  Pusey,  the  former  of  whom  was 
elected  into  his  vacant  fellowship.  Amongst  the 
friends  with  whom  he  thus  became  acquainted  for  the 
first  time,  may  chiefly  be  mentioned  Dr.  Hawkins, 
since  Provost  of  Oriel,  to  whom  in  the  last  year  of  his 
life  he  dedicated  his  "  Lectures  on  Modern  History  ;  " 
and  Dr.  Whately,  afterwards  principal  of  St.  Alban's 
Hall,  and  now  archbishop  of  Dublin,  towards  whom 
his  regard  was  enhanced  by  the  domestic  intercourse 
which  was  constantly  interchanged  in  later  years  be- 
tween their  respective  families,  and  to  whose  writings 
and  conversations  he  took  an  early  opportunity  of 
expressing  his  obligations  in  the  preface  to  his  first 


LIFE    OF   THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.  93 

volume  of  Sermons,  in  speaking  of  the  various  points 
on  which  the  communication  of  his  friend's  views  had 
"  extended  or  confirmed  his  own."  For  the  next  four 
years  he  remained  at  Oxford,  taking  private  pupils,, 
and  reading  extensively  in  the  Oxford  libraries,  an. 
advantage  which  he  never  ceased  to  remember  grate- 
fully himself,  and  to  impress  upon  others,  and  of  which 
the  immediate  results  remain  in  a  great  number  of 
MSS.,  both  in  the  form  of  abstracts  of  other  works, 
and  of  original  sketches  on  history  and  theology. 
They  are  remarkable  rather  as  proofs  of  industry  than 
of  power ;  and  the  style  of  all  his  compositions,  both 
at  this  time  and  for  some  years  later,  is  cramped  by  a 
stiffness  and  formality  alien  alike  to  the  homeliness  of 
his  first  published  works  and  the  vigor  of  his  later  ones,, 
and  strikingly  recalling  his  favorite  lines, 

"  The  old  man  clogs  our  earliest  years, 
And  simple  childhood  comes  the  last." 

But  already,  in  the  examination  for  the  Oriel  Fellow- 
ships, Dr.  Whately  had  pointed  out  to  the  other  elect- 
ors the  great  capability  of  "  growth  "  which  he  believed 
to  be  involved  in  the  crudities  of  the  youthful  candi- 
date's exercises,  and  which,  even  in  points  where  he 
was  inferior  to  his  competitors,  indicated  an  approach- 
ing superiority.  And  widely  different  as  were  his 
juvenile  compositions  in  many  points  from  those  of 
his  after-life,  yet  it  is  interesting  to  observe  in  them 
the  materials  which  those  who  knew  the  pressure  of 
his  numerous  avocations  used  to  wonder  when  he 


94  LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

could  have  acquired,  and  to  trace  amidst  the  strangest 
contrast  of  his  general  thoughts  and  style  occasional 
remarks  of  a  higher  strain,  which  are  in  striking, 
though  in  some  instances  perhaps  accidental,  coinci- 
dence with  some  of  his  later  views.  He  endeavored 
in  his  historical  reading  to  follow  the  plan,  which  he 
afterwards  recommended  in  his  "Lectures,"  of  making 
himself  thoroughly  master  of  some  one  period,  —  the 
fifteenth  century,  with  ''Philip  de  Comines"  as  his 
text-book,  seems  to  have  been  the  chief  sphere  of  his 
studies,  —  and  the  first  book  after  his  election  which 
appears  in  the  Oriel  Library  as  taken  out  in  his  name, 
is  "Rymer's  Fcedera."  Many  of  the  judgments  of 
his  maturer  years  on  Gibbon,  Livy,  and  Thucydides 
are  to  be  found  in  a  MS.  of  1815,  in  which,  under  the 
name  of  "  Thoughts  on  History,"  he  went  through  the 
characteristics  of  the  chief  ancient  and  modern  histo- 
rians. And  it  is  almost  startling,  in  the  midst  of  a 
rhetorical  burst  of  his  youthful  Toryism  in  a  journal 
of  1815,  to  meet  with  expressions  of  real  feeling  about 
the  social  state  of  England  such  as  might  have  been 
written  in  his  latest  years;  or  amidst  the  common- 
place remarks  which  accompany  an  analysis  of  St. 
Paul's  Epistles  and  Chrysostom's  "  Homilies,"  in  1818, 
to  stumble  on  a  statement,  complete  as  far  as  it  goes, 
of  his  subsequent  doctrine  of  the  identity  of  Church 
and  State. 

Meanwhile  he  had  been  gradually  led  to  fix  upon 
his  future  course  in  life.  In  December,  1818,  he  was 
ordained  deacon  at  Oxford:  and  on  Aug.  n,  1820, 


LIFE   OF   THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.  95 

he  married  Mary,  youngest  daughter  of  the  Rev,  John 
Penrose,  rector  of  Fledborough,  in  Nottinghamshire, 
and  sister  of  one  of  his  earliest  school  and  college 
friends,  Trevenen  Penrose ;  having  previously  settled 
in  1819,  at  Laleham,  near  Staines,  with  his  mother, 
aunt,  and  sister,  where  he  remained  for  the  next  nine 
years,  taking  seven  or  eight  young  men  as  private 
pupils  in  preparation  for  the  universities,  for  a  short 
time  in  a  joint  establishment  with  his  brother-in- 
law,  Mr.  Buckland,  and  afterwards  independently  by 
himself. 

In  the  interval  which  had  elapsed  between  the  end 
of  his  undergraduate  career  at  Oxford,  and  his  entrance 
upon  life,  had  taken  place  the  great  change  from  boy- 
hood to  manhood,  and  with  it  a  corresponding  change 
or  growth  of  character,  more  marked  and  more  impor- 
tant than  at  any  subsequent  period  of  his  life.  There 
was  indeed  another  great  step  to  be  taken  before  his 
mind  reached  that  later  stage  of  development  which 
was  coincident  with  his  transition  from  Laleham  to 
Rugby.  The  prosaic  and  matter-of-fact  element  which 
has  been  described  in  his  early  Oxford  life  still  retained 
its  predominance,  and  to  a  certain  extent  dwarfed  and 
narrowed  his  sphere  of  thought ;  the  various  principles 
of  political  and  theological  science  which  contained  in 
germ  all  that  was  to  grow  out  of  them,  had  not  yet 
assumed  their  proper  harmony  and  proportions;  his 
feelings  of  veneration,  if  less  confined  than  in  later 
years,  were  also  less  intense ;  his  hopes  and  views,  if 
more  practicable  and  more  easily  restrained  by  the 


96  LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

advice  of  others,  were  also  less  wide  in  their  range, 
and  less  lofty  in  their  conception. 

But,  however  great  were  the  modifications  which  his 
character  subsequently  underwent,  it  is  the  change  of 
tone  at  this  time,  between  the  earlier  letters  of  this 
period  (such  as  the  one  or  two  first  of  the  ensuing 
series)  and  those  which  immediately  succeed  them, 
that  marks  the  difference  between  the  high  spirit  and 
warm  feelings  of  his  youth  and  the  fixed  earnestness 
and  devotion  which  henceforth  took  possession  of  his 
whole  heart  and  will.  Whatever  may  have  been  the 
outward  circumstances  which  contributed  to  this,  — 
the  choice  of  a  profession,  the  impression  left  upon 
him  by  the  sudden  loss  of  his  elder  brother,  the  new 
and  to  him  elevating  influences  of  married  life,  the  re- 
sponsibility of  having  to  act  as  the  guide  and  teacher 
of  others,  —  it  was  now  for  the  first  time  that  the  prin- 
ciples, which  before  he  had  followed  rather  as  a  mat- 
ter of  course,  and  as  held  and  taught  by  those  around 
him,  became  emphatically  part  of  his  own  convictions, 
to  be  embraced  and  carried  out  for  life  and  for  death. 

From  this  time  forward,  such  defects  as  were  pecul- 
iar to  his  boyhood  and  early  youth  entirely  disappear : 
the  indolent  habits ;  the  morbid  restlessness  and  oc- 
casional weariness  of  duty ;  the  indulgence  of  vague 
schemes  without  definite  purpose ;  the  intellectual 
doubts  which  beset  the  first  opening  of  his  mind  to 
the  realities  of  religious  belief,  when  he  shared,  at  least 
in  part,  the  state  of  perplexity  which  in  his  later  ser- 
mons he  feelingly  describes  as  the  severest  of  earthly 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,  D.D.  97 

trials,  and  which  so  endeared  to  him  throughout  life 
the  story  of  the  confession  of  the  apostle  Thomas,  — 
all  seem  to  have  vanished  away,  and  never  again  to 
have  diverted  him  from  the  decisive  choice  and  ener- 
getic pursuit  of  what  he  set  before  him  as  his  end  and 
duty.  From  this  time  forward,  no  careful  observer 
can  fail  to  trace  that  deep  consciousness  of  the  invis- 
ible world,  and  that  power  of  bringing  it  before  him  in 
the  midst  and  through  the  means  of  his  most  active 
engagements,  which  constituted  the  peculiarity  of  his 
religious  life,  and  the  moving  spring  of  his  whole  life. 
It  was  not  that  he  frequently  introduced  sacred  names 
in  writing  or  in  conversation,  or  that  he  often  dwelt 
on  divine  interpositions  ;  where  many  would  have  done 
so  without  scruple,  he  would  shrink  from  it :  and  in 
speaking  of  his  own  religious  feelings,  or  in  appealing 
to  the  religious  feelings  of  others,  he  was,  except  to 
those  most  intimate  with  him,  exceedingly  reserved. 
But  what  was  true  generally  of  the  thorough  interpene- 
tration  of  the  several  parts  of  his  character,  was  pecul- 
iarly true  of  it  in  its  religious  aspect :  his  natural 
faculties  were  not  unclothed,  but  clothed  upon ;  they 
were  at  once  colored  by,  and  gave  a  color  to,  the  be- 
lief which  they  received.  It  was  in  his  common  acts 
of  life,  whether  public  or  private,  that  the  depth  of  his 
religious  convictions  most  visibly  appeared  :  it  was  in 
his  manner  of  dwelling  on  religious  subjects,  that  the 
characteristic  tendencies  of  his  mind  chiefly  displayed 
themselves. 

Accordingly,  whilst  it  is  impossible,  for  this  reason, 


98  LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

to  understand  his  religious  belief  except  through  the 
knowledge  of  his  actual  life,  and  his  writings  on  ordi- 
nary subjects,  it  is  impossible,  on  the  other  hand,  to 
understand  his  life  and  writings  without  bearing  in 
mind  how  vivid  was  his  realization  of  those  truths  of 
the  Christian  Revelation  on  which  he  most  habitually 
dwelt.  It  was  this  which  enabled  him  to  undertake 
labors  which,  without  such  a  power,  must  have  crushed 
or  enfeebled  the  spiritual  growth  which  in  him  they 
seemed  only  to  foster.  It  was  the  keen  sense  of 
thankfulness  consciously  awakened  by  every  distinct 
instance  of  his  many  blessings,  which  more  than  any 
thing  else  explained  his  close  union  of  joyousness  with 
seriousness.  In  his  even  tenor  of  life,  it  was  difficult 
for  any  one  who  knew  him  not  to  imagine  "  the  golden 
chain  of  heavenward  thoughts  and  humble  prayers  by 
which,  whether  standing  or  sitting,  in  the  intervals  of 
work  or  of  amusement,"  he  " linked  together"  his 
•"more  special  and  solemn  devotions"  (Sermons,  vol. 
iii.  p.  277)  ;  or  not  to  trace  something  of  the  con- 
sciousness of  an  invisible  presence  in  the  collectedness 
with  which,  at  the  call  of  his  common  duties,  he  rose 
at  once  from  his  various  occupations ;  or  in  the  calm 
repose  which,  in  the  midst  of  his  most  active  labors, 
took  all  the  disturbing  accidents  of  life  as  a  matter  of 
course,  and  made  toil  so  real  a  pleasure,  and  relaxa- 
tion so  real  a  refreshment,  to  him.  And  in  his  solemn 
and  emphatic  expressions  on  subjects  expressly  reli- 
gious ;  in  his  manner  of  awful  reverence  when  speak- 
ing of  God  or  of  the  Scriptures ;  in  his  power  of  realizing 


LIFE   OF   THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.  99 

the  operation  of  something  more  than  human,  whether 
in  his  abhorrence  of  evil,  or  in  his  admiration  of  good- 
ness, —  the  impression  on  those  who  heard  him  was 
often  as  though  he  knew  what  others  only  believed,  as 
though  he  had  seen  what  others  only  talked  about. 
"  No  one  could  know  him  even  a  little,"  says  one  who 
was  himself  not  amongst  his  most  intimate  friends, 
"  and  not  be  struck  by  his  absolute  wrestling  with  evil, 
so  that  like  St.  Paul  he  seemed  to  be  battling  with  the 
wicked  One,  and  yet  with  the  feeling  of  God's  help  on 
his  side,  scorning  as  well  as  hating  him." 

Above  all,  it  was  necessary  for  a  right  understand- 
ing, not  only  of  his  religious  opinions,  but  of  his  whole 
character,  to  enter  into  the  peculiar  feeling  of  love 
and  adoration  which  he  entertained  towards  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  —  peculiar  in  the  distinctness  and  inten- 
sity which,  as  it  characterized  almost  all  his  common 
impressions,  so  in  this  case  gave  additional  strength 
and  meaning  to  those  feelings  with  which  he  regarded 
not  only  his  work  of  redemption,  but  himself  as  a  liv- 
ing Friend  and  Master.  "  In  that  unknown  world  in 
which  our  thoughts  become  instantly  lost,"  it  was  his 
real  support  and  delight  to  remember  that,  "  still  there 
is  one  object  on  which  our  thoughts  and  imaginations 
may  fasten,  no  less  than  our  affections ;  that  amidst 
the  light,  dark  from  excess  of  brilliance,  which  sur- 
rounds the  throne  of  God,  we  may  yet  discern  the 
gracious  form  of  the  Son  of  man."  (Sermons,  vol. 
iii.  p.  90.)  In  that  consciousness,  which  pressed  upon 
him  at  times  even  heavily,  of  the  difficulty  of  consider- 


100          LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   £>.D. 

ing  God  in  his  own  nature,  believing,  as  he  did,  that 
"  Providence,  the  Supreme  Being,  the  Deity,  and  other 
such  terms,  repel  us  to  an  infinite  distance,"  and  that 
the  revelation  of  the  Father,  in  himself  unapproach- 
able, is  to  be  looked  upon  rather  as  the  promise  of 
another  life  than  as  the  support  of  this  life,  it  was  to 
him  a  thought  of  perhaps  more  than  usual  comfort 
to  feel  that  " our  God "  is  "Jesus  Christ  our  Lord,  the 
image  of  the  invisible  God,"  and  that  "in  him  is  rep- 
resented all  the  fulness  of  the  Godhead,  until  we  know 
even  as  we  are  known."  (Vol.  v.  p.  222.)  And  with 
this  full  conviction,  both  of  his  conscience  and  under- 
standing, that  he  of  whom  he  spoke  was  "  still  the 
very  selfsame  Jesus  in  all  human  affections  and  divine 
excellences,"  there  was  a  vividness  and  tenderness  in 
his  conception  of  him,  on  which,  if  one  may  so  say, 
all  his  feelings  of  human  friendship  and  affection 
seemed  to  fasten  as  on  their  natural  object,  "  bringing 
before  him  his  actions,  imaging  to  himself  his  very 
voice  and  look,"  —  there  was  to  him  (so  to  speak)  a 
greatness  in  the  image  thus  formed  of  him,  on  which 
all  his  natural  instincts  of  reverence,  all  his  range  of 
historical  interest,  all  his  admiration  of  truth  and  good- 
ness, at  once  centred.  "  Where  can  we  find  a  name 
so  holy  as  that  we  may  surrender  our  whole  souls  to 
it,  before  which  obedience,  reverence  without  measure, 
intense  humility,  most  unreserved  adoration,  may  all 
be  duly  rendered?"  was  the  earnest  inquiry  of  his 
whole  nature,  intellectual  and  moral,  no  less  than  reli- 
gious. And  the  answer  to  it  in  like  manner  expressed 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          IOI 

what  he  endeavored  to  make  the  rule  of  his  own  per- 
sonal conduct,  and  the  centre  of  all  his  moral  and  reli- 
gious convictions  :  "  One  name  there  is,  and  one  alone, 
one  alone  in  heaven  and  earth,  —  not  truth,  not  jus- 
tice, not  benevolence,  not  Christ's  mother,  not  his 
holiest  servants,  not  his  blessed  sacraments,  nor  his 
very  mystical  body  the  Church,  but  himself  only  who 
died  for  us,  and  rose  again,  Jesus  Christ,  both  God  and 
man.  (Sermons,  vol.  iv.  p.  210.) 

These  were  the  feelings  which,  though  more  fully 
developed  with  the  advance  of  years,  now  for  the  first 
time  took  thorough  possession  of  his  mind,  and  which 
struck  upon  his  moral  nature  at  this  period  with  the 
same  kind  of  force  (if  one  may  use  the  comparison) 
as  the  new  views,  which  he  acquired  from  time  to  time 
of  persons  and  principles  in  historical  or  philosophical 
speculations,  impressed  themselves  upon  his  intellectual 
nature.  There  is  naturally  but  little  to  interrupt  the 
retirement  of  his  life  at  Laleham,  which  was  only 
broken  by  the  short  tours  in  England  or  on  the  Conti- 
nent, in  which  then,  as  afterwards,  he  employed  his 
vacations.  Still,  it  is  not  without  interest  to  dwell  on 
these  years,  the  profound  peace  of  which  is  contrasted 
so  strongly  with  the  almost  incessant  agitations  of  his 
subsequent  life,  and  "  to  remain  a  while  "  (thus  apply- 
ing his  own  words  on  another  subject)  "  on  the  high 
ground  where  the  waters  which  are  hereafter  to  form 
the  separate  streams  "  of  his  various  social  and  theo- 
logical views,  "lie  as  yet  undistinguished  in  their 
common  parent  lake." 


102         LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

Whatever  may  have  been  the  exact  notions  of  his 
future  course  which  presented  themselves  to  him,  it  is 
evident  that  he  was  not  insensible  to  the  attraction  of 
visions  of  extensive  influence ;  and  almost  to  his  latest 
hour  he  seems  to  have  been  conscious  of  the  existence 
of  the  temptation  within  him,  and  of  the  necessity  of 
contending  against  it.  "I  believe,"  he  said,  many 
years  afterwards,  in  speaking  of  these  early  struggles 
to  a  Rugby  pupil  who  was  consulting  him  on  the 
choice  of  a  profession,  —  "I  believe  that  naturally  I  am 
one  of  the  most  ambitious  men  alive ; "  and  "  the  three 
great  objects  of  human  ambition,"  he  added,  to  which 
alone  he  could  look  as  deserving  the  name,  were  "  to 
be  the  prime  minister  of  a  great  kingdom,  the  governor 
of  a  great  empire,  or  the  writer  of  works  which  should 
live  in  every  age  and  in  every  country."  But  in  some 
respects  the  loftiness  of  his  aims  made  it  a  matter  of 
less  difficulty  to  confine  himself  at  once  to  a  sphere 
in  which,  whilst  he  felt  himself  well  and  usefully  em- 
ployed, he  felt  also  that  the  practical  business  of  his 
daily  duties  acted  as  a  check  upon  his  own  inclinations 
and  speculations.  Accordingly,  when  he  entered  upon 
his  work  at  Laleham,  he  seems  to  have  regarded  it  as 
his  work  for  life.  "  I  have  always  thought,"  he  writes 
in  1823,  "with  regard  to  ambition,  that  I  should  like 
to  be  aut  Cczsar  aut  nullus ;  and,  as  it  is  pretty  well 
settled  for  me  that  I  shall  not  be  Caesar,  I  am  quite 
content  to  live  in  peace  as  nullus." 

It  was  a  period,  indeed,  on  which  he  used  himself  to 
look  back,  even  from  the  wider  usefulness  of  his  later 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          1 03 

years,  almost  with  a  fond  regret,  as  to  the  happiest 
time  of  his  life.  "  Seek  ye  first  the  kingdom  of  God 
and  his  righteousness,  and  then  all  other  things  shall 
be  added  to  you,"  was  a  passage  to  which  now  more 
than  any  other  time  he  was  in  the  habit  of  recurring 
as  one  of  peculiar  truth  and  comfort.  His  situation 
supplied  him  exactly  with  that  union  of  retirement 
and  work  which  more  than  any  other  condition  suited 
his  natural  inclinations,  and  enabled  him  to  keep  up 
more  uninterrupted  than  was  ever  again  in  his  power 
the  communication  which  he  so  much  cherished  with 
his  friends  and  relations.  Without  undertaking  any 
directly  parochial  charge,  he  was  in  the  habit  of  ren- 
dering constant  assistance  to  Mr.  Hearn,  the  curate 
of  the  place,  both  in  the  parish  church  and  workhouse, 
and  in  visiting  the  villagers ;  thus  uniting  with  his  ordi- 
nary occupations  greater  means  than  he  was  afterwards 
able  to  command,  of  familiar  intercourse  with  his 
poorer  neighbors,  which  he  always  so  highly  valued. 
Bound  as  he  was  to  Laleham  by  all  these  ties,  he  long 
loved  to  look  upon  it  as  his  final  home ;  and  the  first 
reception  of  the  tidings  of  his  election  at  Rugby  was 
overclouded  with  deep  sorrow  at  leaving  the  scene  of 
so  much  happiness.  Years  after  he  had  left  it,  he  still 
retained  his  early  affection  for  it ;  and  till  he  had  pur- 
chased his  house  in  Westmoreland,  he  entertained  a 
lingering  hope  that  he  might  return  to  it  in  his  old 
age,  when  he  should  have  retired  from  Rugby.  Often 
he  would  revisit  it,  and  delighted  in  renewing  his  ac- 
quaintance with  all  the  families  of  the  poor  whom  he 


104          LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,  D.D. 

had  known  during  his  residence,  in  showing  to  his 
children  his  former  haunts,  in  looking  once  again  on 
his  favorite  views  of  the  great  plain  of  Middlesex; 
the  lonely  walks  along  the  quiet  banks  of  the  Thames ; 
the  retired  garden,  with  its  "Campus  Martius  "  and 
its  "  wilderness  of  trees,"  which  lay  behind  his  house, 
and  which  had  been  the  scenes  of  so  many  sportive 
games  and  serious  conversations ;  the  churchyard  of 
Laleham,  then  doubly  dear  to  him  as  containing  the 
graves  of  his  infant  child  whom  he  buried  there  in 
1832,  and  of  his  mother,  his  aunt,  and  his  sister 
Susannah,  who  had  long  formed  almost  a  part  of  his 
own  domestic  circle,  and  whom  he  lost  within  a  few 
years  after  his  departure  to  Rugby. 

His  general  view  of  his  work  as  a  private  tutor  is 
best  given  in  his  own  words  in  1831,  to  a  friend  who 
was  about  to  engage  in  a  similar  occupation. 

"  I  know  it  has  a  bad  name,  but  my  wife  and  I  always  hap- 
pened to  be  fond  of  it ;  and  if  I  were  to  leave  Rugby  for  no 
demerit  of  my  own,  I  would  take  to  it  again  with  all  the  pleas- 
ure in  life.  I  enjoyed,  and  do  enjoy,  the  society  of  youths  of 
seventeen  or  eighteen,  for  they  are  all  alive  in  limbs  and  spirits 
at  least,  if  not  in  mind ;  while  in  older  persons  the  body  and 
spirits  often  become  lazy  and  languid,  without  the  mind  gaining 
any  vigor  to  compensate  for  it.  Do  not  take  your  work  as  a 
dose,  and  I  do  not  think  you  will  find  it  nauseous.  I  am  sure 
you  will  not  if  your  wife  does  not;  and,  if  she  is  a  sensible 
woman,  she  will  not  either  if  you  do  not.  The  misery  of  private 
tuition  seems  to  me  to  consist  in  this,  that  men  enter  upon  it 
as  a  means  to  some  further  end ;  are  always  impatient  for  the 
time  when  they  may  lay  it  aside :  whereas  if  you  enter  upon  it 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          1 05 

heartily  as  your  life's  business,  as  a  man  enters  upon  any  other 
profession,  you  are  not  then  in  danger  of  grudging  every  hour 
you  give  to  it,  and  thinking  of  how  much  privacy  and  how  much 
society  it  is  robbing  you;  but  you  take  to  it  as  a  matter  of 
course,  making  it  your  material  occupation,  and  devote  your 
time  to  it,  and  then  you  find  that  it  is  in  itself  full  of  interest, 
and  keeps  life's  current  fresh  and  wholesome  by  bringing  you 
in  such  perpetual  contact  with  all  the  spring  of  youthful  liveli- 
ness. I  should  say,  have  your  pupils  a  good  deal  with  you, 
and  be  as  familiar  with  them  as  you  possibly  can.  I  did  this 
continually  more  and  more  before  I  left  Laleham,  going  to 
bathe  with  them,  leaping,  and  all  other  gymnastic  exercises 
within  my  capacity,  and  sometimes  sailing  or  rowing  with  them. 
They,  I  believe,  always  liked  it;  and  I  enjoyed  it  myself  like  a 
boy,  and  found  myself  constantly  the  better  for  it." 

In  many  respects,  his  method  at  Laleham  resembled 
the  plan  which  he  pursued  on  a  larger  scale  at  Rugby. 
Then,  as  afterwards,  he  had  a  strong  sense  of  the  duty 
of  protecting  his  charge,  at  whatever  risk  to  himself, 
from  the  presence  of  companions  who  were  capable  only 
of  exercising  an  evil  influence  over  their  associates ; 
and,  young  as  he  was,  he  persisted  in  carrying  out  this 
principle,  and  in  declining  to  take  any  additional  pupils 
as  long  as  he  had  under  him  any  of  such  a  character, 
whom  yet  he  did  not  feel  himself  justified  in  remov- 
ing at  once.  And  in  answer  to  the  request  of  his 
friends  that  he  would  raise  his  terms,  "  I  am  confirmed 
in  my  resolution  not  to  do  so,"  he  writes  in  1827,  "  lest 
I  should  get  the  sons  of  very  great  people  as  my  pupils 
whom  it  is  almost  impossible  to  sophronize"  In  reply 
to  a  friend  in  1821,  who  had  asked  his  advice  in  a 
difficult  case  of  dealing  with  a  pupil,  — 


IO6          LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

"  I  have  no  doubt,"  he  answers,  "  that  you  have  acted  per- 
fectly right :  for  lenity  is  seldom  to  be  repented  of ;  and  besides, 
if  you  should  find  that  it  has  been  ill  bestowed,  you  can  have 
recourse  to  expulsion  after  all.  But  it  is  clearly  right  to  try 
your  chance  of  making  an  impression ;  and,  if  you  can  make 
any  at  all,  it  is  at  once  your  justification  and  encouragement  to 
proceed.  It  is  very  often  like  kicking  a  football  up-hill :  you 
kick  it  onwards  twenty  yards,  and  it  rolls  back  nineteen ;  still, 
you  have  gained  one  yard,  and  thus  in  a  good  many  kicks  you 
make  some  progress.  This,  however,  is  on  the  supposition 
that  the  pupil's  fault  is  aKpacia  and  not  KCLKUI  :  for  if  he  laughs 
behind  your  back  at  what  you  say  to  him,  he  will  corrupt 
others ;  and  then  there  is  no  help  for  it,  but  he  must  go.  This 
is  to  me  all  the  difference :  I  would  be  as  patient  as  I  possibly 
could  with  irresolution,  unsteadiness,  and  fits  of  idleness :  but 
if  a  pupil  has  set  his  mind  to  do  nothing,  but  considers  all 
the  work  as  so  much  fudge,  which  he  will  evade  if  he  can,  I 
have  made  up  my  resolution  that  I  will  send  him  away  without 
scruple ;  for  not  to  speak  of  the  heartless  trouble  that  such  an 
animal  would  give  to  myself,  he  is  a  living  principle  of  mischief 
in  the  house,  being  ready  at  all  times  to  pervert  his  companions : 
and  this  determination  I  have  expressed  publicly,  and  if  I  know 
myself  I  will  act  upon  it,  and  I  advise  you  most  heartily  to  do 
the  same.  Thus,  then,  with  Mr. ,  when  he  appeared  peni- 
tent, and  made  professions  of  amendment,  you  were  clearly 
right  to  give  him  a  longer  trial.  If  he  be  sincere,  however 
unsteady  and  backsliding,  he  will  not  hurt  the  principles  of 
your  other  pupils ;  for  he  will  not  glory  in  his  own  misconduct, 
which  I  suppose  is  the  danger:  but  if  you  have  reason  to  think 
that  the  impression  you  made  on  him  was  only  temporary,  and 
that  it  has  since  entirely  gone  away,  and  his  own  evil  principles 
as  well  as  evil  practices  are  in  vigor,  then  I  would  advise  you 
to  send  him  off  without  delay ;  for  then,  taking  the  mischief  he 
will  do  to  others  into  the  account,  the  football  rolls  down 
twenty-five  yards  to  your  kick  of  twenty,  and  that  is  a  losing 
game." 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          IO/ 


odvvrj  TroAAa  typoveovra  irep  prjdevos  KpaTsetv"  he 
writes,  "must  be  the  feelings  of  many  a  working  tutor  who  can- 
not open  the  eyes  of  his  pupils  to  see  what  knowledge  is,  —  I: 
do  not  mean  human  knowledge  only,  but  *  wisdom.1  " 

"You  could  scarcely  conceive  the  rare  instances  of  igno- 
rance that  I  have  met  with  amongst  them.  One  had  no  notion 
of  what  was  meant  by  an  angle;  another  could  not  tell  how 
many  Gospels  there  are,  nor  could  he,  after  mature  delibera- 
tion, recollect  any  other  names  than  Matthew,  Mark,  and  Luke  j 
and  a  third  holds  the  first  concord  in  utter  contempt,  and. 
makes  the  infinitive  mood  supply  the  place  of  the  principal  verb 
in  the  sentence  without  the  least  suspicion  of  any  impropriety* 
My  labor,  therefore,  is  more  irksome  than  I  have  ever  known 
it  ;  but  none  of  my  pupils  give  me  any  uneasiness  on  the  most 
serious  points,  and  five  of  them  staid  the  sacrament  when  it 
was  last  administered.  I  ought  constantly  to  impress  upon  my 
mind  how  light  an  evil  is  the  greatest  ignorance  or  dulness 
when  compared  with  habits  of  profligacy,  or  even  of  wilful' 
irregularity  and  riotousness.v 

"I  regret  in  your  son,"  he  says  (in  writing  to  a  parent),  "a. 
carelessness  which  does  not  allow  him  to  think  seriously  of 
what  he  is  living  for,  and  to  do  what  is  right,  not  merely  as  a 
matter  of  regularity,  but  because  it  is  a  duty.  I  trust  you  will 
not  think  that  I  am  meaning  any  thing  more  than  my  words 
convey,  or  that  what  I  am  regretting  in  your  son  is  not  to  be 
found  in  nineteen  out  of  every  twenty  young  men  of  his  age  ; 
but  I  conceive  that  you  would  wish  me  to  form  my  desire  of 
what  your  son  should  be,  not  according  to  the  common  stand- 
ard, but  according  to  the  highest,  —  to  be  satisfied  with  no> 
less  in  him  than  I  should  have  been  anxious  to  find  in  a  son  of 
my  own.  He  is  capable  of  doing  a  great  deal,  and  I  have  not 
seen  any  thing  in  him  which  has  called  for  reproof  since  he 
has  been  with  me.  I  am  only  desirous  that  he  should  work 
more  lieartily,  —  just,  in  short,  as  he  would  work  if  he  took  arc 
interest  of  himself  in  his  own  improvement.  On  this,  of  course,, 
all  distinction  in  Oxford  must  depend  :  but  much  more  thair 


I08          LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

distinction  depends  on  it ;  for  the  difference  between  a  useful 
education,  and  one  which  does  not  affect  the  future  life,  rests 
mainly  on  the  greater  or  less  activity  which  it  has  communi- 
cated to  the  pupil's  mind,  whether  he  has  learned  to  think,  or 
to  act,  and  to  gain  knowledge  by  himself,  or  whether  he  has 
merely  followed  passively  as  long  as  there  was  some  one  to 
draw  him." 

It  is  needless  to  anticipate  the  far  more  extended 
influence  which  he  exercised  over  his  Rugby  scholars, 
by  describing  in  detail  the  impression  produced  upon 
his  pupils  at  Laleham.  Yet  the  mere  difference  of  the 
relation  in  which  he  stood  towards  them  in  itself  gave 
a  peculiar  character  to  his  earlier  sphere  of  education, 
and  as  such  may  best  be  described  in  the  words  of 
one  amongst  those  whom  he  most  esteemed,  Mr.  Price, 
who  afterwards  became  one  of  his  assistant  masters  at 
Rugby. 

"  Nearly  eighteen  years  have  passed  away  since  I  resided  at 
Laleham,  and  I  had  the  misfortune  of  being  but  two  months  as 
a  pupil  there.  I  am  unable,  therefore,  to  give  you  a  complete 
picture  of  the  Laleham  life  of  my  late  revered  tutor:  I  can 
only  impart  to  you  such  impressions  as  my  brief  sojourn  there 
has  indelibly  fixed  in  my  recollection. 

"  The  most  remarkable  thing  which  struck  me  at  once  on 
joining  the  Laleham  circle  was  the  wonderful  healthiness  of 
tone  and  feeling  which  prevailed  in  it.  Every  thing  about  me 
I  immediately  found  to  be  most  real :  it  was  a  place  where  a 
new-comer  at  once  felt  that  a  great  and  earnest  work  was  going 
forward.  Dr.  Arnold's  great  power  as  a  private  tutor  resided 
in  this,  that  he  gave  such  an  intense  earnestness  to  life.  Every 
pupil  was  made  to  feel  that  there  was  a  work  for  him  to  do,  — 
that  his  happiness  as  well  as  his  duty  lay  in  doing  that  work 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,  D.D. 

well.  Hence,  an  indescribable  zest  was  communicated  to  a 
young  man's  feeling  about  life ;  a  strange  joy  came  over  him 
on  discovering  that  he  had  the  means  of  being  useful,  and  thus 
of  being  happy;  and  a  deep  respect  and  ardent  attachment 
sprang  up  towards  him  who  had  taught  him  thus  to  value  life 
and  his  own  self,  and  his  work  and  mission  in  this  world.  All 
this  was  founded  on  the  breadth  and  comprehensiveness  of 
Arnold's  character,  as  well  as  its  striking  truth  and  reality ;  on 
the  unfeigned  regard  he  had  for  work  of  all  kinds,  and  the 
sense  he  had  of  its  value,  both  for  the  complex  aggregate 
of  society,  and  the  growth  and  perfection  of  the  individual. 
Thus  pupils  of  the  most  different  natures  were  keenly  stimu- 
lated :  none  felt  that  he  was  left  out,  or  that,  because  he  was- 
not  endowed  with  large  powers  of  mind,  there  was  no  sphere 
open  to  him  in  the  honorable  pursuit  of  usefulness.  This  won- 
derful power  of  making  all  his  pupils  respect  themselves, 
and  of  awakening  in  them  a  consciousness  of  the  duties  that 
God  had  assigned  to  them  personally,  and  of  the  consequent 
reward  each  should  have  of  his  labors,  was  one  of  Arnold's 
most  characteristic  features  as  a  trainer  of  youth ;  he  possessed 
it  eminently  at  Rugby  ;  but,  if  I  may  trust  my  own  vivid  recol- 
lections, he  had  it  quite  as  remarkably  at  Laleham.  His  hold 
over  all  his  pupils  I  know  perfectly  astonished  me.  It  was  not 
so  much  an  enthusiastic  admiration  for  genius  or  learning  or 
eloquence  which  stirred  within  them:  it  was  a  sympathetic 
thrill,  caught  from  a  spirit  that  was  earnestly  at  work  in  the 
world  —  whose  work  was  healthy,  sustained,  and  constantly  car- 
ried forward  in  the  fear  of  God  —  a  work  that  was  founded  on 
a  deep  sense  of  its  duty  and  its  value,  and  was  coupled  with 
such  a  true  humility,  such  an  unaffected  simplicity,  that  others, 
could  not  help  being  invigorated  by  the  same  feeling,  and  with 
the  belief  that  they,  too,  in  their  measure,  could  go  and  do  like- 
wise. 

"  In  all  this  there  was  no  excitement,  no  predilection  for  one 
class  of  work  above  another,  no  enthusiasm  for  any  one-sided 
object,  but  an  humble,  profound,  and  most  religious  conscious- 


1IO          LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

siess,  that  work  is  the  appointed  calling  of  man  on  earth,  the 
*end  for  which  his  various  faculties  were  given,  the  element  in 
rwhich  his  nature  is  ordained  to  develop  itself,  and  in  which  his 
.progressive  advance  towards  heaven  is  to  lie.  Hence,  each 
pupil  felt  assured  of  Arnold's  sympathy  in  his  own  particular 
,-growth  and  character  of  talent :  in  striving  to  cultivate  his  own 
/gifts,  in  whatever  direction  they  might  lead  him,  he  infallibly 
found  Arnold  not  only  approving,  but  positively  and  sincerely 
valuing  for  themselves,  the  results  he  had  arrived  at ;  and  that 
approbation  and  esteem  gave  a  dignity  and  a  worth,  both  to 
.himself  and  his  labor. 

"  His  humility  was  very  deeply  seated ;  his  respect  for  all 
knowledge  sincere.  A  strange  feeling  passed  over  the  pupil's 
mind  when  he  found  great  and  often  undue  credit  given  him 
for  knowledge  of  which  his  tutor  was  ignorant.  But  this  gen- 
erated no  conceit :  the  example  before  his  eyes  daily  reminded 
irim  that  it  was  only  as  a  means  of  usefulness,  as  an  improve- 
ment of  talents  for  his  own  good  and  that  of  others,  that  knowl- 
edge was  valued.  He  could  not  find  comfort  in  the  presence 
of  such  reality,  in  any  shallow  knowledge. 

"  There  was  then,  as  afterwards,  great  simplicity  in  his  reli- 
gious character.  It  was  no  isolated  part  of  his  nature,  it  was  a 
bright  and  genial  light  shining  on  every  branch  of  his  life.  He 
took  very  great  pains  with  the  Divinity  lessons  of  his  pupils  ; 
and  his  lectures  were  admirable,  and,  I  distinctly  remember, 
very  highly  prized  for  their  depth  and  originality.  Neither 
generally  in  ordinary  conversation,  nor  in  his  walks  with  his 
pupils,  was  his  style  of  speaking  directly  or  mainly  religious ; 
but  he  was  ever  very  ready  to  discuss  any  religious  question  : 
'  whilst  the  depth  and  truth  of  his  nature,  and  the  earnestness  of 
liis  religious  convictions  and  feelings,  were  ever  bursting  forth, 
so  as  to  make  it  strongly  felt  that  his  life,  both  outward  and 
inward,  was  rooted  in  God. 

"  In  the  details  of  daily  business,  the  quantity  of  time  that 

lie  devoted  to  his  pupils  was  very  remarkable.     Lessons  began 

•  at  seven,  and  with  the  interval  of  breakfast  lasted  till  nearly 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          Ill 

three :  then  he  would  walk  with  his  pupils,  and  dine  at  half- 
past  five.  At  seven  he  usually  had  some  lesson  on  hand ;  and 
it  was  only  when  we  all  were  gathered  up  in  the  drawing-room 
after  tea,  amidst  young  men  on  all  sides  of  him,  that  he  would 
commence  work  for  himself,  in  writing  his  Sermons  or  Roman 
History. 

"Who  that  ever  had  the  happiness  of  being  at  Laleham, 
does  not  remember  the  lightness  and  joyousness  of  heart  with 
which  he  would  romp  and  play  in  the  garden,  or  plunge  with  a 
boy's  delight  into  the  Thames,  or  the  merry  fun  with  which  he 
would  battle  with  spears  with  his  pupils  ?  Which  of  them 
does  not  recollect  how  the  tutor  entered  into  his  amusements 
with  scarcely  less  glee  than  himself  ? 

"  But  I  must  conclude  :  I  do  not  pretend  to  touch  on  every 
point.  I  have  told  you  what  struck  me  most,  and  I  have  tried 
to  keep  away  all  remembrance  of  what  he  was  when  I  knew 
him  better.  I  have  confined  myself  to  the  impression  Laleham 
left  upon  me. 

"B.  PRICE." 

TO  J.   T.  COLERIDGE,  ESQ. 

(In  answer  to  criticisms  on  a  review  of  Poppo's  Observationes  Criticae.) 
LALEHAM  GARDEN,  April  25,  1821. 

.  .  .  Now  for  your  remarks  on  my  Poppo.  All  clumsi- 
ness in  the  sentences,  and  want  of  connection  between  the 
parts,  I  will  do  my  best  to  amend ;  and  the  censure  on  verbal 
criticism  I  will  either  soften  or  scratch  out  entirely,  for  J. 
Keble  objected  to  the  same  part.  The  translations  also  I  will 
try  to  improve,  and  indeed  I  am  aware  of  their  baldness.  The 
additions  which  you  propose,  I  can  make  readily :  but  as  to  the 
general  plainness  of  the  style,  I  do  not  think  I  clearly  see 
the  fault  which  you  allude  to  ;  and,  to  say  the  truth,  the  plain- 
ness, i.e.,  the  absence  of  ornament  and  long  words,  is  the  result 
of  deliberate  intention.  At  any  rate,  in  my  own  case,  I  am  sure 
an  attempt  at  ornament  would  make  my  style  so  absurd  that 


112         LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

you  would  yourself  laugh  at  it.  I  could  not  do  it  naturally; 
for  I  have  now  so  habituated  myself  to  that  unambitious  and 
plain  way  of  writing,  and  absence  of  Latin  words  as  much  as 
possible,  that  I  could  not  write  otherwise  without  manifest 
affectation.  Of  course  I  do  not  mean  to  justify  awkwardness 
and  clumsy  sentences,  of  which  I  am  afraid  my  writings  are  too 
full,  and  all  which  I  will  do  my  best  to  alter  wherever  you  have 
marked  them ;  but  any  thing  like  puff,  or  verbal  ornament,  I 
cannot  bring  myself  to.  Richness  of  style  I  admire  heartily, 
but  this  I  cannot  attain  to  for  lack  of  power.  All  I  could  do 
would  be  to  produce  a  bad  imitation  of  it,  which  seems  to  me 
very  ridiculous.  For  the  same  reason,  I  know  not  how  to- 
make  the  review  more  striking:  I  cannot  make  it  so  by  its 
own  real  weight  and  eloquence,  and  therefore  I  think  I  should 
only  make  it  offensive  by  trying  to  make  it  fine.  Do  consider, 
what  you  recommend  is  air?uj<;  aptarov,  but  I  must  do  what  is 
apiarov  kfioL.  You  know  you  always  told  me  I  should  never  be 
a  poet;  and  in  like  manner  I  never  could  be  really  eloquent, 
for  I  have  not  the  imagination  or  fulness  of  mind  needful  to 
make  me  so.  ... 

TO   REV.  E.   HAWKINS. 

LALEHAM,  Oct.  21,  1827. 

I  feel  most  sincerely  obliged  to  you  and  my  other  friends  in 
Oxford  for  the  kind  interest  which  you  show  in  my  behalf,  in 
wishing  to  procure  for  me  the  head  mastership  at  Rugby.  Of 
its  being  a  great  deal  more  lucrative  than  my  present  employ- 
ment I  have  no  doubt,  nor  of  its  being  in  itself  a  situation  of 
more  extensive  usefulness ;  but  I  do  doubt  whether  it  would 
be  so  in  my  hands,  and  how  far  I  am  fitted  for  the  place  of 
head  master  of  a  large  school.  ...  I  confess  that  I  should 
very  much  object  to  undertake  a  charge  in  which  I  was  not 
invested  with  pretty  full  discretion.  According  to  my  notions 
of  what  large  schools  are,  founded  on  all  I  know,  and  all  I 
have  ever  heard  of  them,  expulsion  should  be  practised  much 


LIFE   OF   THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          113 

oftener  than  it  is.  Now,  I  know  that  trustees,  in  general,  are 
averse  to  this  plan,  because  it  has  a  tendency  to  lessen  the 
numbers  of  the  school ;  and  they  regard  quantity  more  than 
quality.  In  fact,  my  opinions  on  this  point  might,  perhaps, 
generally  be  considered  as  disqualifying  me  for  the  situation  of 
master  of  a  great  school ;  yet  I  could  not  consent  to  tolerate 
much  that  I  know  is  tolerated  generally,  and,  therefore,  I  should 
not  like  to  enter  on  an  office  which  I  could  not  discharge  ac- 
cording to  my  own  views  of  what  is  right.  I  do  not  believe 
myself,  that  my  system  would  be,  in  fact,  a  cruel  or  a  harsh 
one;  and  I  believe,  that,  with  much  care  on  the  part  of  the 
masters,  it  would  be  seldom  necessary  to  proceed  to  the  ratio 
ultima :  only  I  would  have  it  clearly  understood,  that  I  would 
mast  unscrupulously  resort  to  it,  at  whatever  inconvenience, 
where  there  was  a  perseverance  in  any  habit  inconsistent  with 
a  boy's  duties. 

TO   REV.   E.   HAWKINS. 

LALEHAM,  Dec.  28,  1827. 

Your  kind  little  note  ought  not  to  have  remained  thus  long 
unanswered,  especially  as  you  have  a  most  particular  claim  on 
my  thanks  for  your  active  kindness  in  the  whole  business,  and 
for  your  character  of  me  to  Sir  H.  Halford,  that  I  was  likely 
to  improve  generally  the  system  of  public  education,  a  state- 
ment which  Sir  H.  Halford  told  me  had  weighed  most  strongly 
in  my  favor.  You  would  not,  I  am  sure,  have  recommended 
me,  if  you  had  supposed  that  I  should  alter  things  violently  or 
for  the  pleasure  of  altering ;  but,  as  I  have  at  different  times 
expressed  in  conversation  my  disapprobation  of  much  of  the 
existing  system,  I  find  that  some  people  expect  that  I  am  going 
to  sweep  away  root  and  branch,  quod  absit  /  I  need  not  tell 
you  how  wholly  unexpected  this  result  has  been  to  us,  and  I 
hope  I  need  not  say  also  what  a  solemn  and  almost  overwhelm- 
ing responsibility  I  feel  is  imposed  on  me.  I  would  hope  to 
have  the  prayers  of  my  friends,  together  with  my  own,  for  a 


114          LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

supply  of  that  true  wisdom  which  is  required  for  such  a  busi- 
ness. To  be  sure,  how  small  in  comparison  is  the  importance 
of  my  teaching  the  boys  to  read  Greek,  and  how  light  would  be 
a  schoolmaster's  duty  if  that  were  all  of  it !  Yet,  if  my  health 
and  strength  continue  as  they  have  been  for  the  last  eight  years, 
I  do  not  fear  the  labor,  and  really  enjoy  the  prospect  of  it. 
I  am  so  glad  that  we  are  likely  to  meet  soon  in  Oxford. 


TO   THE   REV.   JOHN   TUCKER. 

LALEHAM,  August,  1828. 

I  am  inclined  to  write  to  you  once  again  before  we  leave 
Laleham,  as  a  sort  of  farewell  from  this  dear  place ;  and  you 
shall  answer  it  with  a  welcome  to  Rugby.  You  fancy  us  already 
at  Rugby ;  and  so  does  J.  Keble,  from  whom  I  received  a  very 
kind  letter  some  time  since,  directed  to  me  there.  But  we  do 
not  move  till  Tuesday,  when  we  go,  fourteen  souls,  to  Oxford, 
having  taken  the  whole  coach ;  and  on  Wednesday  we  hope  to 
reach  Rugby,  having  in  like  manner  secured  the  whole  Leices- 
ter coach  from  Oxford  to  Rugby.  Our  goods  and  chattels, 
under  convoy  of  our  gardener,  are  at  this  time  somewhere  on 
the  Grand  Junction  Canal,  and  will  reach  Rugby,  I  hope,  this 
-evening.  The  poor  house  here  is  sadly  desolate,  —  all  the  car- 
pets up,  half  the  furniture  gone,  and  signs  of  removal  every- 
where visible.  And  so  ends  the  first  act  of  my  life  since  I 
arrived  at  manhood.  For  the  last  eight  years  it  has  been  a 
period  of  as  unruffled  happiness  as  I  should  think  could  ever 
foe  experienced  by  man.  Mary's  illness,  in  1821,  is  almost  its 
only  dark  spot ;  —  and  how  was  that  softened  and  comforted ! 
It  is  almost  a  fearful  consideration ;  and  yet  there  is  a  super- 
stitious notion,  and  an  unbelieving  one  too,  which  cannot  re- 
ceive God's  mercies  as  his  free  gift,  but  will  always  be  looking 
out  for  something  wherewith  to  purchase  them.  An  humbling 
consideration  much  rather  it  is  and  ought  to  be :  yet  all  life  is 
humbling,  if  we  think  upon  it ;  and  our  greatest  mercies,  which 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          115 

we  sometimes  least  think  of,  are  the  most  humbling  of  all.  .  ,  . 
The  Rugby  prospect  I  contemplate  with  a  very  strong  interest : 
the  work  I  am  not  afraid  of,  if  I  can  get  my  proper  exercise ; 
but  I  want  absolute  play,  like  a  boy,  and  neither  riding  nor 
walking  will  make  up  for  my  leaping-pole  and  gallows,  and 
bathing,  when  the  youths  used  to  go  with  me,  and  I  felt  com- 
pletely for  the  time  a  boy,  as  they  were.  It  is  this  entire  relax- 
ation, I  think,  at  intervals,  such  again  as  my  foreign  tours  have 
afforded,  that  gives  me  so  keen  an  appetite  for  my  work  at 
other  times,  and  has  enabled  me  to  go  through  it,  not  only  with 
no  fatigue,  but  with  a  sense  of  absolute  pleasure.  I  believe 
that  I  am  going  to  publish  a  volume  of  Sermons.  You  will 
think  me  crazed  perhaps ;  but  I  have  two  reasons  for  it,  — chiefly, 
the  repeated  exhortations  of  several  individuals  for  the  last 
three  or  four  years ;  but  these  would  not  alone  have  urged  me 
to  it,  did  I  not  wish  to  state,  for  my  own  sake,  what  my  opin- 
ions really  are,  on  points  where  I  know  they  have  been  griev- 
ously misrepresented.  Whilst  I  lived  here  in  Laleham,  my 
opinions  mattered  to  nobody:  but  I  know,  that,  while  I  was 
a  candidate  for  Rugby,  it  was  said  in  Oxford  that  I  did  not 
preach  the  gospel,  nor  even  touch  upon  the  great  doctrines  of 
Christianity  in  my  sermons ;  and,  if  this  same  impression  be 
prevalent  now,  it  will  be  mischievous  to  the  school  in  a  high 
degree.  Now,  if  what  I  really  do  preach  be  to  any  man's 
notions  not  the  gospel,  I  cannot  help  it,  and  must  be  content 
to  abide  by  the  consequences  of  his  opinion ;  but  I  do  not  want 
to  be  misunderstood,  and  accused  of  omitting  things  which  I 
do  not  omit. 

TO   THE   REV.   GEORGE  CORNISH. 

RUGBY,  Aug.  16,  1828. 

...  If  I  can  do  my  work  as  I  ought  to  do  it,  we  shall  have 
every  reason  to  be  thankful  for  the  change.  I  must  not,  it  is 
true,  think  of  dear  old  Laleham,  and  all  that  we  have  left  there, 
or  the  perfect  peace  of  our  eight  years  of  wedded  life  passed 


Il6         LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

there  together.  It  is  odd  that  both  you  and  I  should  now  for 
the  first  time  in  our  lives  be  moving  from  our  parents'  neigh- 
borhood ;  but  in  this  respect  our  happiness  was  very  uncom- 
mon :  and  to  me  altogether,  Laleham  was  so  like  a  place  of 
premature  rest,  that  I  believe  I  ought  to  be  sincerely  thankful 
that  I  am  called  to  a  scene  of  harder  and  more  anxious  labor. 
.  .  .  The  boys  come  back  next  Saturday  week.  So  here  begins 
the  second  act  of  our  lives.  May  God  bless  it  to  us,  and  make 
it  help  forward  the  great  end  of  all ! 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          1 1/ 


CHAPTER   III. 

SCHOOL   LIFE   AT   RUGBY. 

IT  would  be  useless  to  give  any  chronological  de- 
tails of  a  life  so  necessarily  monotonous  as  that  of  the 
head  master  of  a  public  school,  and  it  is  accordingly 
only  intended  to  describe  the  general  system  which 
Dr.  Arnold  pursued  during  the  fourteen  years  he  was 
at  Rugby.  Yet  some  apology  may  seem  to  be  due 
for  the  length  of  a  chapter  which  to  the  general  reader 
must  be  comparatively  deficient  in  interest.  Some- 
thing must,  indeed,  be  forgiven  to  the  natural  inclina- 
tion to  dwell  on  those  recollections  of  his  life  which 
to  his  pupils  are  the  most  lively  and  the  most  recent 
—  something  to  the  almost  unconscious  tendency  to 
magnify  those  scenes  which  are  most  nearly  connected 
with  what  is  most  endeared  to  one's  self.  But,  inde- 
pendently of  any  local  or  personal  considerations,  it 
has  been  felt,  that,  if  any  part  of  Dr.  Arnold's  work 
deserved  special  mention,  it  was  his  work  at  Rugby ; 
and  that,  if  it  was  to  be  of  any  use  to  those  of  his  own 
profession  who  would  take  any  interest  in  it,  it  could 
only  be  made  so  by  a  full  and  minute  account. 

Those  who  look  back  upon  the  state  of  English 
education  in  the  year  1827,  must  remember  how  the 


Il8         LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

feeling  of  dissatisfaction  with  existing  institutions  which 
had  begun  in  many  quarters  to  display  itself,  had 
already  directed  considerable  attention  to  the  condi- 
tion of  public  schools.  The  range  of  classical  reading, 
in  itself  confined,  and  with  no  admixture  of  other  in- 
formation, had  been  subject  to  vehement  attacks  from 
the  liberal  party  generally,  on  the  ground  of  its  alleged 
narrowness  and  inutility.  And  the  more  undoubted 
evil  of  the  absence  of  systematic  attempts  to  give  a 
more  directly  Christian  character  to  what  constituted 
the  education  of  the  whole  English  gentry,  was  becom- 
ing more  and  more  a  scandal  in  the  eyes  of  religious 
men,  who  at  the  close  of  the  last  century  and  the 
beginning  of  this,  —  Wilberforce,  for  example,  and 
Bowdler,  —  had  lifted  up  their  voices  against  it.  A 
complete  reformation,  or  a  complete  destruction  of 
the  whole  system,  seemed,  to  many  persons,  sooner 
or  later  to  be  inevitable.  The  difficulty,  however,  of 
making  the  first  step,  where  the  alleged  objection  to 
alteration  was  its  impracticability,  was  not  to  be  easily 
surmounted.  The  mere  resistance  to  change  which 
clings  to  old  institutions,  was  in  itself  a  considerable 
obstacle,  and  in  the  case  of  some  of  the  public  schools, 
from  the  nature  of  their  constitution,  in  the  first  in- 
stance almost  insuperable  ;  and  whether  amongst  those 
who  were  engagea  in  the  existing  system,  or  those  who 
were  most  vehemently  opposed  to  it,  for  opposite  but 
obvious  reasons,  it  must  have  been  extremely  difficult 
to  find  a  man  who  would  attempt,  or,  if  he  attempted, 
carry  through,  any  extensive  improvement. 


LIFE    OF   THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          119 

It  was  at  this  juncture  that  Dr.  Arnold  was  elected 
head  master  of  a  school,  which,  whilst  it  presented  a 
fair  average  specimen  of  the  public  schools  at  that 
time,  yet  by  its  constitution  imposed  fewer  shackles 
on  its  head,  and  offered  a  more  open  field  for  altera- 
tion, than  was  the  case  at  least  with  Eton  or  Winches- 
ter. The  post  itself,  in  spite  of  the  publicity,  and  to 
a  certain  degree  formality,  which  it  entailed  upon  him, 
was  in  many  respects  remarkably  suited  to  his  natural 
tastes,  —  to  his  love  of  tuition,  which  had  now  grown 
so  strongly  upon  him,  that  he  declared  sometimes  that 
he  could  hardly  live  without  such  employment ;  to  the 
vigor  and  spirits  which  fitted  him  rather  to  deal  with 
the  young  than  the  old ;  to  the  desire  of  carrying  out 
his  favorite  ideas,  of  uniting  things  secular  with  things 
spiritual,  and  of  introducing  the  highest  principles  of 
action  into  regions  comparatively  uncongenial  to  their 
reception. 

Even  his  general  interest  in  public  matters  was  not 
without  its  use  in  his  new  station.  Many,  indeed,  both 
of  his  admirers  and  of  his  opponents,  used  to  lament 
that  a  man  with  such  views  and  pursuits  should  be 
placed  in  such  a  situation.  "  What  a  pity,"  it  was  said 
on  the  one  hand,  "  that  a  man  fit  to  be  a  statesman, 
should  be  employed  in  teaching  school-boys."  "  What 
a  shame,"  it  was  said  on  the  oth*r  hand,  "  that  the 
head  master  of  Rugby  should  be  employed  in  writing 
essays  and  pamphlets."  But  even  had  there  been  no 
connection  between  the  two  spheres  of  his  interest, 
and  had  the  inconvenience  resulting  from  his  public 


120         LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

prominence  been  far  greater  than  it  was,  it  would  have 
been  the  necessary  price  of  having  him  at  all  in  that 
place.  He  would  not  have  been  himself  had  he  not 
felt  and  written  as  he  did ;  and  he  could  not  have  en- 
dured to  live  under  the  grievance  of  remaining  silent 
on  subjects  on  which  he  believed  it  to  be  his  most 
sacred  duty  to  speak  what  he  thought. 

As  it  was,  however,  the  one  sphere  played  into  the 
other.  Whatever  labor  he  bestowed  on  his  literary 
works  was  only  part  of  that  constant  progress  of  self- 
education  which  he  thought  essential  to  the  right  dis- 
charge of  his  duties  as  a  teacher.  Whatever  interest 
he  felt  in  the  struggles  of  the  political  and  ecclesiasti- 
cal world  re-acted  on  his  interest  in  the  school,  and 
invested  it  in  his  eyes  with  a  new  importance.  When 
he  thought  of  the  social  evils  of  the  country,  it  awak- 
ened a  corresponding  desire  to  check  the  thoughtless 
waste  and  selfishness  of  school-boys  ;  a  corresponding 
sense  of  the  aggravation  of  those  evils  by  the  insolence 
and  want  of  sympathy  too  frequently  shown  by  the 
children  of  the  wealthier  classes  towards  the  lower 
orders ;  a  corresponding  desire  that  they  should  there 
imbibe  the  first  principles  of  reverence  to  law,  and 
regard  for  the  poor,  which  the  spirit  of  the  age  seemed 
to  him  so  little  to  encourage.  When  he  thought  of  the 
evils  of  the  Church,  he  would  "  turn  from  the  thought 
of  the  general  temple  in  ruins,  and  see  whether  they 
could  not,  within  the  walls  of  their  own  little  particu- 
lar congregation,"  endeavor  to  realize  what  he  believed 
to  be  its  true  idea ;  "  what  use  they  could  make  of 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          121 

the  vestiges  of  it,  still  left  amongst  themselves,  —  com- 
mon reading  of  the  Scriptures,  common  prayer,  and 
the  communion."  (Sermons,  vol.  iv.  pp.  266,  316.) 
Thus,  "  whatever  of  striking  good  or  evil  happened  in 
any  part  of  the  wide  range  of  English  dominion,"  — 
"  declared  on  what  important  scenes  some  of  his  own 
scholars  might  be  called  upon  to  enter,"  —  "whatever 
new  and  important  things  took  place  in  the  world  of 
thought,"  suggested  the  hope  "  that  they,  when  they 
went  forth  amidst  the  strifes  of  tongues  and  of  minds, 
might  be  endowed  with  the  spirit  of  wisdom  and 
power."  (Sermons,  vol.  v.  p.  405.)  And  even  in  the 
details  of  the  school,  it  would  be  curious  to  trace  how 
he  recognized  in  the  peculiar  vices  of  boys,  the  same 
evils  which,  when  full  grown,  became  the  source  of  so 
much  social  mischief;  how  he  governed  the  school 
precisely  on  the  same  principles  as  he  would  have 
governed  a  great  empire  ;  how  constantly,  to  his  own 
mind  or  to  his  scholars,  he  exemplified  the  highest 
truths  of  theology  and  philosophy  in  the  simplest  re- 
lations of  the  boys  towards  each  other  or  towards 
him. 

In  entering  upon  his  office,  he  met  with  difficulties, 
many  of  which  have  since  passed  away,  but  which 
must  be  borne  in  mind  if  points  are  here  dwelt  upon 
that  have  now  ceased  to  be  important,  but  were  by  no 
means  insignificant  or  obvious  when  he  came  to  Rugby. 
Nor  did  his  system  at  once  attain  its  full  maturity.  He 
was  a  long  time  feeling  his  way  amongst  the  various 
institutions  which  he  formed  or  invented ;  he  was  con- 


122         LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

stantly  striving  after  an  ideal  standard  of  perfection 
which  he  was  conscious  that  he  had  never  attained ; 
to  the  improvements  which,  in  a  short  time,  began  to 
take  place  in  other  schools,  —to  those  at  'Harrow, 
under  his  friend  Dr.  Longley,  and  to  those  at  Win- 
chester, under  Dr.  Moberly,  to  which  he  alluded  in 
one  of  his  later  sermons  (vol.  v.  p.  150),  —  he  often 
looked  as  models  for  himself;  to  suggestions  from 
persons  very  much  younger  than  himself,  not  unfre- 
quently  from  his  former  pupils,  with  regard  to  the 
course  of  reading,  or  to  alterations  in  his  manner  of 
preaching,  or  to  points  of  discipline,  he  would  often 
listen  with  the  greatest  deference.  His  own  mind  was 
constantly  devising  new  measures  for  carrying  out  his 
several  views.  "The  school,"  he  said  on  first  coming, 
"  is  quite  enough  to  employ  any  man's  love  of  reform  ; 
and  it  is  much  pleasanter  to  think  of  evils  which  you 
may  yourself  hope  to  relieve,  than  those  with  regard 
to  which  you  can  give  nothing  but  vain  wishes  and 
opinions."  "There  is  enough  of  Toryism  in  my  na- 
ture," he  said,  on  evils  being  mentioned  to  him  in  the 
place,  "  to  make  me  very  apt  to  sleep  contentedly  over 
things  as  they  are  :  and  therefore  I  hold  it  to  be  most 
true  kindness  when  any  one  directs  my  attention  to 
points  in  the  school  which  are  alleged  to  be  going  on 
ill." 

The  perpetual  succession  of  changes  which  resulted 
from  this,  was  by  many  objected  to  as  excessive,  and 
calculated  to  endanger  the  stability  of  his  whole  sys- 
tem. "He  wakes  every  morning,"  it  was  said  of  him, 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          123 

"  with  the  impression  that  every  thing  is  an  open  ques- 
tion." But,  rapid  as  might  be  the  alterations  to  which 
the  details  of  his  system  were  subjected,  his  general 
principles  remained  fixed.  The  unwillingness  which 
he  had,  even  in  common  life,  to  act  in  any  individual 
case  without  some  general  law  to  which  he  might  refer 
it,  ran  through  every  thing;  and  at  times  it  would 
almost  seem  as  if  he  invented  universal  rules  with  the 
express  object  of  meeting  particular  cases.  Still,  if  in 
smaller  matters  this  gave  an  occasional  impression  of 
fancifulness  or  inconsistency,  it  was,  in  greater  matters,, 
one  chief  cause  of  the  confidence  which  he  inspired. 
Amidst  all  the  plans  that  came  before  him,  he  felt, 
and  he  made  others  feel,  that,  whatever  might  be  the 
merits  of  the  particular  question  at  issue,  there  were 
principles  behind  which  lay  far  more  deeply  seated 
than  any  mere  question  of  school  government,  which, 
he  was  ready  to  carry  through  at  whatever  cost,  and 
from  which  no  argument  or  menace  could  move  him. 

Of  the  mere  external  administration  of  the  school, 
little  need  here  be  said.  Many  difficulties  which  he 
encountered  were  alike  provoked  and  subdued  by  the 
peculiarities  of  his  own  character.  The  vehemence 
with  which  he  threw  himself  into  a  contest  against 
evil,  and  the  confidence  with  which  he  assailed  it, 
though  it  carried  him  through  perplexities  to  which 
a  more  cautious  man  would  have  yielded,  led  him  to 
disregard  interests  and  opinions  which  a  less  earnest 
or  a  less  sanguine  reformer  would  have  treated  with 
greater  consideration.  His  consciousness  of  his  own. 


124         LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

integrity,  and  his  contempt  for  worldly  advantage, 
sometimes  led  him  to  require  from  others  more  than 
might  be  reasonably  expected  from  them,  and  to  adopt 
measures  which  the  world  at  large  was  sure  to  misin- 
terpret ;  yet  these  very  qualities,  in  proportion  as  they 
became  more  appreciated,  ultimately  secured  for  him 
a  confidence  beyond  what  could  have  been  gained  by 
the  most  deliberate  circumspection.  But,  whatever 
were  the  temporary  exasperations  and  excitements 
thus  produced  in  his  dealings  with  others,  they  were 
gradually  removed  by  the  increasing  control  over  him- 
self and  his  work  which  he  acquired  in  later  years. 
The  readiness  which  he  showed  to  acknowledge  a 
fault  when  once  convinced  of  it,  as  well  as  to  persevere 
in  kindness,  even  when  he  thought  himself  injured, 
succeeded  in  healing  breaches  which,  with  a  less  forgiv- 
ing or  less  honest  temper,  would  have  been  irreparable. 
His  union  of  firmness  with  tenderness  had  the  same 
effect  in  the  settlement  of  some  of  the  perplexities  of 
.his  office  which  in  others  would  have  resulted  from 
'art  and  management ;  and  even  his  work  as  a  school- 
master cannot  be  properly  appreciated  without  remem- 
rbering  how,  in  the  end  of  his  career,  he  rallied  round 
:him  the  public  feeling,  which  in  its  beginning  and 
middle,  as  will  appear  farther  on,  had  been  so  widely 
estranged  from  him. 

With  regard  to  the  trustees  of  the  school,  entirely 
amicable  as  were  his  usual  relations  with  them,  and 
grateful  as  he  felt  to  them  for  their  active  support  and 
.personal  friendliness,  he  from  the  first  maintained,  that, 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          12$ 

in  the  actual  working  of  the  school,  he  must  be  com- 
pletely independent,  and  that  their  remedy,  if  they 
were  dissatisfied,  was  not  interference,  but  dismissal. 
On  this  condition  he  took  the  post ;  and  any  attempt 
to  control  either  his  administration  of  the  school,  or 
his  own  private  occupations,  he  felt  bound  to  resist 
"as  a  duty,"  he  said  on  one  occasion,  "not  only  to 
himself,  but  to  the  master  of  every  foundation  school 
in  England.'* 

Of  his  intercourse  with  the  assistant  masters  it  is  for 
obvious  reasons  impossible  to  speak  in  any  detail. 
Yet  it  would  be  injustice  alike  to  them  and  to  him,  not 
to  bear  in  mind  how  earnestly  he  dwelt  on  their  co- 
operation as  an  essential  part  of  his  own  government 
of  the  school.  It  was  one  of  his  main  objects  to  increase 
in  all  possible  ways  their  importance.  By  raising  their 
salaries  he  obviated  the  necessity  of  their  taking  any 
parochial  duty  which  should  divert  their  attention  from 
the  school,  and  procured  from  the  bishop  of  the  dio- 
cese the  acknowledgment  of  their  situations  as  titles, 
for  orders.  A  system  of  weekly  councils  was  estab- 
lished, in  which  all  school-matters  were  discussed ; 
and  he  seldom  or  never  acted  in  any  important  point 
of  school  discipline  without  consulting  them.  It  was 
his  endeavor,  partly  by  placing  the  boarding-houses 
under  their  care,  partly  by  an  elaborate  system  of  pri- 
vate tuition,  which  was  introduced  with  this  express 
purpose,  to  encourage  a  pastoral  and  friendly  relation 
between  them  and  the  several  classes  of  boys  intrusted 
to  them.  What  he  was  in  his  department,  in  short,. 


126         LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

he  wished  every  one  of  them  to  be  in  theirs ;  and 
nothing  rejoiced  him  more  than  to  hear  of  instances 
in  which  he  thought  that  boys  were  sent  to  the  school 
for  the  sake  of  his  colleagues'  instructions  rather  than 
of  his  own.  It  was  his  labor  to  inspire  them  with 
the  views  of  education  and  of  life  by  which  he  was 
possessed  himself;  and  the  bond  thus  gradually 
formed,  especially  when  in  his  later  time  several  of 
those  who  had  been  his  pupils  became  his  colleagues, 
grew  deeper  and  stronger  with  each  successive  year 
that  they  passed  in  the  place.  Out  of  his  own  family, 
there  was  no  circle  of  which  he  was  so  completely  the 
animating  principle,  as  amongst  those  who  co-operated 
with  him  in  the  great  practical  work  of  his  life  ;  none 
in  which  his  loss  was  so  keenly  felt  to  be  irreparable, 
or  his  example  so  instinctively  regarded  in  the  light 
of  a  living  spring  of  action  and  a  source  of  solemn 
responsibility,  as  amongst  those  who  were  called  to 
continue  their  labors  in  the  sphere  and  on  the  scene 
which  had  been  ennobled  to  them  by  his  counsels  and 
his  presence.1 

1  His  views  will  perhaps  be  best  explained  by  the  two  following  letters:  — 

LETTER  OF  INQUIRY   FOR  A  MASTER. 

..."  What  I  want  is  a  man  who  is  a  Christian  and  a  gentleman,  an  active 
man,  and  one  who  has  common  sense,  and  understands  boys.  I  do  not  so 
much  care  about  scholarship,  as  he  will  have  immediately  under  him  the  lowest 
forms  in  the  school;  but  yet,  on  second  thoughts,  I  do  care  about  it  very 
much,  because  his  pupils  maybe  in  the  highest  forms;  and,  besides,  I  think 
that  even  the  elements  are  best  taught  by  a  man  who  has  a  thorough  knowl- 
edge of  the  matter.  However,  if  one  must  give  way,  I  prefer  activity  of  mind 
and  an  interest  in  his  work  to  high  scholarship ;  for  the  one  may  be  acquired 
far  more  easily  than  the  other.  I  should  wish  it  also  to  be  understood,  that  the 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          I2/ 

But  whatever  interest  attaches  to  the  more  external 
circumstances  of  his  administration,  and  to  his  rela- 
tions with  others,  who  were  concerned  in  it,  is,  of 
course,  centred  in  his  own  personal  government  of  the 
boys.  The  natural  effect  of  his  concentration  of  inter- 
est on  what  he  used  to  call  "  our  great  self,"  the  school, 
was  that  the  separate  existence  of  the  school  was  in 
return  almost  merged  in  him.  This  was  not  indeed 
his  own  intention;  but  it  was  precisely  because  he 
thought  so  much  of  the  institution,  and  so  little  of 
himself,  that,  in  spite  of  his  efforts  to  make  it  work 
independently  of  any  personal  influence  of  his  own, 

new  master  may  be  called  upon  to  take  boarders  in  his  house;  it  being  my 
intention  for  the  future  to  require  this  of  all  masters  as  I  see  occasion,  that  so 
in  time  the  boarding-houses  may  die  a  natural  death.  .  ,  .  With  this  to  offer, 
I  think  I  have  a  right  to  look  rather  high  for  the  man  whom  I  fix  upon ;  and  it 
is  my  great  object  to  get  here  a  society  of  intelligent,  gentlemanly,  and  active 
men,  who  may  permanently  keep  up  the  character  of  the  school,  and  make 
it  *  vile  damnum,'  if  I  were  to  break  my  neck  to-morrow." 

LETTER  TO  A   MASTER  ON  HIS  APPOINTMENT. 

..."  The  qualifications  which  I  deem  essential  to  the  due  performance  of 
a  master's  duties  here  may,  in  brief,  be  expressed  as  the  spirit  of  a  Christian 
and  a  gentleman, —  that  a  man  should  enter  his  business,  not  e«  Trapepyov,  but 
as  a  substantive  and  most  important  duty ;  that  he  should  devote  himself  to  it 
as  the  especial  branch  of  the  ministerial  calling  which  he  has  chosen  to  follow 
—  that  belonging  to  a  great  public  institution,  and  standing  in  a  public  and 
conspicuous  situation,  he  should  study  things  'lovely  and  of  good  report;' 
that  is,  that  he  should  be  public-spirited,  liberal,  and  entering  heartily  into  the 
interest,  honor,  and  general  respectability  and  distinction  of  the  society  which 
he  has  joined ;  and  that  he  should  have  sufficient  vigor  of  mind,  and  thirst  for 
knowledge,  to  persist  in  adding  to  his  own  stores  without  neglecting  the  full 
improvement  of  those  whom  he  is  teaching.  I  think  our  masterships  here 
offer  a  noble  field  of  duty,  and  I  would  not  bestow  them  on  any  one  whom  I 
thought  would  undertake  them  without  entering  into  the  spirit  of  our  system 
heart  and  hand." 


128         LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

it  became  so  thoroughly  dependent  upon  him,  and  so 
thoroughly  penetrated  with  his  spirit.  From  one  end 
of  it  to  the  other,  whatever  defects  it  had  were  his 
defects :  whatever  excellences  it  had  were  his  excel- 
lences. It  was  not  the  master  who  was  beloved  or 
disliked  for  the  sake  of  the  school,  but  the  school 
which  was  beloved  or  disliked  for  the  sake  of  the  mas- 
ter. Whatever  peculiarity  of  character  was  impressed 
on  the  scholars  whom  it  sent  forth,  was  derived,  not 
from  the  genius  of  the  place,  but  from  the  genius  of 
the  man.  Throughout,  whether  in  the  school  itself, 
or  in  its  after-effects,  the  one  image  that  we  have 
before  us  is  not  Rugby,  but  ARNOLD. 

What  was  his  great  object  has  already  appeared 
from  his  letters ;  namely,  \  the  hope  of  making  the 
school  a  place  of  really  Christian  education,! —  words 
which  in  his  mouth  meant  something  very  different 
from  the  general  professions  which  every  good  teacher 
must  be  supposed  to  make,  and  which  no  teacher, 
even  in  the  worst  times  of  English  education,  could 
have  openly  ventured  to  disclaim,  but  which  it  is  ex- 
ceedingly difficult  so  to  explain,  as  that  they  shall  not 
seem  to  exceed  or  fall  short  of  the  truth. 

It  was  not  an  attempt  merely  to  give  more  theologi- 
cal instruction,  or  to  introduce  sacred  words  into 
school  admonitions  :  there  may  have  been  some  oc- 
casions for  religious  advice  that  might  have  been 
turned  to  more  advantage,  some  religious  practices 
which  might  have  been  more  constantly  or  effectually 
encouraged.  His  design  arose  out  of  the  very  nature 

y  ' 


LIFE   OF   THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          I2Q 

of  his  office  :  the  relation  of  an  instructor  to  his  pupils 
was  to  him,  like  all  the  other  relations  of  human  life, 
only  in  a  healthy  state  when  subordinate  to  their  com- 
mon relation  to  God.  "  The  business  of  a  schoolmas- 
ter," he  used  to  say,  "no  less  than  that  of  a  parish 
minister,  is  the  cure  of  souls."  The  idea  of  a  Chris- 
tian school,  again,  was  to  him  the  natural  result,  so  to 
speak,  of  the  very  idea  of  a  school  in  itself,  exactly 
as  the  idea  of  a  Christian  state  seemed  to  him  to  be 
involved  in  the  very  idea  of  a  state  itself.  The  intel- 
lectual training  was  not  for  a  moment  underrated,  and 
the  machinery  of  the  school  was  left  to  have  its  own 
way.  But  he  looked  upon  the  whole  as  bearing  on 
the  advancement  of  the  one  end  of  all  instruction  and 
education :  the  boys  were  still  treated  as  school-boys, 
but  as  school-boys  who  must  grow  up  to  be  Christian 
men;  whose  age  did  not  prevent  their  faults  from 
being  sins,  or  their  excellences  from  being  noble  and 
Christian  virtues ;  whose  situation  did  not  of  itself 
make  the  application  of  Christian  principles  to  their 
daily  lives  an  impracticable  vision. 

His  education,  in  short,  it  was  once  observed  amidst 
the  vehement  outcry  by  which  he  used  to  be  assailed, 
was  not  (according  to  the  popular  phrase)  based  upon 
religion,  but  was  itself  religious.  It  was  this  chiefly 
which  gave  a  oneness  to  his  work  amidst  a  great  vari- 
ety of  means  and  occupations,  and  a  steadiness  to  the 
general  system  amidst  its  almost  unceasing  change. 
It  was  this  which  makes  it  difficult  to  separate  one 
part  of  his  work  from  another,  and  which  often  made 


130         LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

it  impossible  for  his  pupils  to  say,  in  after-life,  of  much 
that  had  influenced  them,  whether  they  had  derived  it 
from  what  was  spoken  in  school,  in  the  pulpit,  or  in 
private.  And,  therefore,  when  either  in  direct  reli- 
gious teaching,  or  on  particular  occasions,  Christian 
principles  were  expressly  introduced  by  him,  they  had 
not  the  appearance  of  a  rhetorical  flourish,  or  of  a 
temporary  appeal  to  the  feelings ;  they  were  looked 
upon  as  the  natural  expression  of  what  was  constantly 
implied  :  it  was  felt  that  he  had  the  power,  in  which 
so  many  teachers  have  been  deficient,  of  saying  what 
he  did  mean,  and  of  not  saying  what  he  did  not  mean, 
—  the  power  of  doing  what  was  right,  and  speaking 
what  was  true,  and  thinking  what  was  good,  independ- 
ently of  any  professional  or  conventional  notions  that 
so  to  act,  speak,  or  think  was  becoming  or  expedient. 
It  was  not  merely  an  abstract  school,  but  an  English 
public  school,  which  he  looked  upon  as  the  sphere  in 
which  this  was  to  be  effected.  There  was  something 
to  him,  at  the  very  outset,  full  of  interest  in  a  great 
place  of  national  education,  such  as  he  considered 
a  public  school  to  be. 

"  There  is,"  he  said,  "  or  there  ought  to  be,  something  very 
ennobling  in  being  connected  with  an  establishment  at  once 
ancient  and  magnificent,  where  all  about  us,  and  all  the  associa- 
tions belonging  to  the  objects  around  us,  should  be  great,  splen- 
did, and  elevating.  What  an  individual  ought  and  often  does 
derive  from  the  feeling  that  he  is  born  of  an  old  and  illustrious 
race,  from  being  familiar  from  his  childhood  with  the  walls 
and  trees  which  speak  of  the  past  no  less  than  of  the  present, 
and  make  both  full  of  images  of  greatness,  this,  in  an  inferior 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,  D.D.          131 

degree,  belongs  to  every  member  of  an  ancient  and  celebrated 
place  of  education.  In  this  respect,  every  one  of  us  has  a  re- 
sponsibility imposed  upon  him,  which  I  wished  that  \re  more 
considered."  (Sermons,  vol.  iii.  p.  210.) 

This  feeling  of  itself  dictated  the  preservation  of  the 
old  school  constitution  as  far  as  it  was  possible ;  and 
he  was  very  careful  not  to  break  through  any  customs 
which  connected  the  institution,  however  slightly,  with 
the  past.  But,  in  this  constitution,  there  were  pecul- 
iarities of  far  greater  importance  in  his  eyes  for  good 
or  evil,  than  any  mere  imaginative  associations,  —  the 
peculiarities  which  distinguish  the  English  public- 
school  system  from  almost  every  other  system  of  edu- 
cation in  Europe,  and  which  are  all  founded  on  the 
fact  that  a  large  number  of  boys  are  left  for  a  large 
portion  of  their  time  to  form  an  independent  society 
of  their  own,  in  which  the  influence  that  they  exercise 
over  each  other  is  far  greater  than  can  possibly  be 
exercised  by  the  masters,  even  if  multiplied  beyond 
their  present  number. 

How  keenly  he  felt  the  evils  resulting  from  this  sys- 
tem, and  the  difficulty  of  communicating  to  it  a  really 
Christian  character,  will  be  evident  to  any  one  who 
knows  the  twelfth  sermon  in  his  second  volume,  in 
which  he  unfolded,  at  the  beginning  of  his  career,  the 
causes  which  had  led  good  men  to  declare  that  "  pub- 
lic schools  are  the  seats  and  nurseries  of  vice ;  "  or  the 
three  sermons  on  "  Christian  Schools  "  in  his  fifth  vol- 
ume, in  which,  with  the  added  experience  of  ten  years, 
he  analyzed  the  six  evils  by  which  he  "  supposed  that 


132          LIFE    OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

great  schools  were  likely  to  be  corrupted,  and  to  be 
changed  from  the  likeness  of  God's  temple  to  that  of  a 
den  of  thieves."  (Vol.  v.  p.  74.) 

Sometimes  he  would  be  led  to  doubt  whether  it 
were  really  compatible  with  the  highest  principles  of 
education  :  sometimes  he  would  seem  to  have  an  ear- 
nest and  almost  impatient  desire  to  free  himself  from 
it.  Still,  on  the  whole,  it  was  always  on  a  reformation, 
not  on  an  overthrow,  of  the  existing  constitution  of  the 
school  that  he  endeavored  to  act.  "Another  sys- 
tem," he  said,  "may  be  better  in  itself;  but  I  am 
placed  in  this  system,  and  am  bound  to  try  what  I 
can  make  of  it." 

With  his  usual  undoubting  confidence  in  what  he 
believed  to  be  a  general  law  of  Providence,  he  based 
his  whole  management  of  the  school  on  his  early- 
formed  and  yearly-increasing  conviction,  that  what  he 
had  to  look  for,  both  intellectually  and  morally,  was 
not  performance,  but  promise  ;  that  the  very  freedom 
and  independence  of  school-life,  which  in  itself  he 
thought  so  dangerous,  might  be  made  the  best  prepa- 
ration for  Christian  manhood  :  and  he  did  not  hesitate 
to  apply  to  his  scholars  the  principle  which  seemed 
to  him  to  have  been  adopted  in  the  training  of  the 
childhood  of  the  human  race  itself.  He  shrunk  from 
pressing  on  the  conscience  of  boys  rules  of  action 
which  he  felt  they  were  not  yet  able  to  bear,  and  from 
enforcing  actions  which,  though  right  in  themselves, 
would  in  boys  be  performed  from  wrong  motives. 

Keenly  as  he  felt  the  risk  and  fatal  consequences 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          133 

of  the  failure  of  this  trial,  still  it  was  his  great,  some- 
times his  only,  support,  to  believe  that  "  the  character 
is  braced  amid  such  scenes  to  a  greater  beauty  and 
firmness  than  it  ever  can  attain  without  enduring  and 
witnessing  them.  Our  work  here  would  be  absolutely 
unendurable  if  we  did  not  bear  in  mind  that  we  should 
look  forward  as  well  as  backward  —  if  we  did  not  re- 
member that  the  victory  of  fallen  man  lies  not  in  inno- 
cence, but  in  tried  virtue."  (Sermons,  vol.  iv.  p.  7.)  "  I 
hold  fast,"  he  said,  "  to  the  great  truth,  that  '  blessed 
is  he  that  overcometh ; ' "  and  he  writes  in  1837, 
"  Of  all  the  painful  things  connected  with  my  employ- 
ment, nothing  is  equal  to  the  grief  of  seeing  a  boy 
come  to  school  innocent  and  promising,  and  tracing 
the  corruption  of  his  character  from  the  influence  of 
the  temptations  around  him,  in  the  very  place  which 
ought  to  have  strengthened  and  improved  it.  But  in 
most  cases,  those  who  come  with  a  character  of  posi- 
tive good  are  benefited  :  it  is  the  neutral  and  indeci- 
sive characters  which  are  apt  to  be  decided  for  evil 
by  schools,  as  they  would  be,  in  fact,  by  any  other 
temptation." 

But  this  very  feeling  led  him  with  the  greater  eager- 
ness to  catch  at  every  means  by  which  the  trial  might 
be  shortened  or  alleviated.  "  Can  the  change  from 
childhood  to  manhood  be  hastened,  without  prema- 
turely exhausting  the  faculties  of  body  or  mind?" 
(Sermons,  vol.  iv.  p.  19)  was  one  of  the  chief  questions 
on  which  his  mind  was  constantly  at  work,  and  which, 
in  the  judgment  of  some,  he  was  disposed  to  answer 


134         LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,  D.D. 

too  readily  in  the  affirmative.  It  was  wkh  the  elder 
boys,  of  course,  that  he  chiefly  acted  on  this  principle  ; 
but  with  all  above  the  very  young  ones,  he  trusted  to 
it  more  or  less.  Firmly  as  he  believed  that  a  time  of 
trial  was  inevitable,  he  believed  no  less  firmly  that  it 
might  be  passed  at  public  schools  sooner  than  under 
other  circumstances ;  and  in  proportion  as  he  disliked 
the  assumption  of  a  false  manliness  in  boys,  was  his 
desire  to  cultivate  in  them  true  manliness,  as  the  only 
step  to  something  higher,  and  to  dwell  on  earnest 
principle  and  moral  thoughtfulness  as  the  great  and 
distinguishing  mark  between  good  and  evil.  Hence 
his  wish,  that  as  much  as  possible  should  be  done  by 
the  boys,  and  nothing  for  them ;  hence  arose  his  prac- 
tice, in  which  his  own  delicacy  of  feeling  and  upright- 
ness of  purpose  powerfully  assisted  him,  of  treating 
the  boys  as  gentlemen  and  reasonable  beings,  of  mak- 
ing them  respect  themselves  by  the  mere  respect  he 
showed  to  them,  of  showing  that  he  appealed  and 
trusted  to  their  own  common  sense  and  conscience. 
Lying,  for  example,  to  the  masters,  he  made  a  great 
moral  offence ;  placing  implicit  confidence  in  a  boy's 
assertion,  and  then,  if  a  falsehood  was  discovered, 
punishing  it  severely  —  in  the  upper  part  of  the  school, 
when  persisted  in,  with  expulsion.  Even  with  the 
lower  forms,  he  never  seemed  to  be  on  the  watch  for 
boys ;  and  in  the  higher  forms,  any  attempt  at  further 
proof  of  an  assertion  was  immediately  checked  :  "  If 
you  say  so,  that  is  quite  enough  —  of  course  I  believe 
your  word ;  "  and  there  grew  up  in  consequence  a 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          135 

general  feeling  that  "  it  was  a  shame  to  tell  Arnold 
a  lie  —  he  always  believes  one." 

Perhaps  the  liveliest  representation  of  this  general 
spirit,  as  distinguished  from  its  exemplification  in  par- 
ticular parts  of  the  discipline  and  instruction,  would 
be  formed  by  recalling  his  manner  as  he  appeared  in 
the  great  school,  where  the  boys  used  to  meet  when 
the  whole  school  was  assembled  collectively,  and  not 
in  its  different  forms  or  classes.  Then,  whether  on 
his  usual  entrance  every  morning  to  prayers  before  the 
first  lesson,  or  on  the  more  special  emergencies  which 
might  require  his  presence,  he  seemed  to  stand  before 
them,  not  merely  as  the  head  master,  but  as  the  rep- 
resentative of  the  school.  There  he  spoke  to  them 
as  members  together  with  himself  of  the  same  great 
institution,  whose  character  and  reputation  they  had 
to  sustain  as  well  as  he.  He  would  dwell  on  the  satis- 
faction he  had  in  being  head  of  a  society  where  noble 
and  honorable  feelings  were  encouraged,  or  on  the 
disgrace  which  he  felt  in  hearing  of  acts  of  disorder 
or  violence,  such  as  in  the  humbler  ranks  of  life  would 
render  them  amenable  to  the  laws  of  their  country ; 
or,  again,  on  the  trust  which  he  placed  in  their  honor 
as  gentlemen,  and  the  baseness  of  any  instance  in 
which  it  was  abused.  "Is  this  a  Christian  school ?" 
he  indignantly  asked  at  the  end  of  one  of  those  ad- 
dresses, in  which  he  had  spoken  of  an  extensive  dis- 
play of  bad  feeling  amongst  the  boys,  and  then  added, 
"  I  cannot  remain  here  if  all  is  to  be  carried  on  by 
constraint  and  force  :  if  I  am  to  be  here  as  a  jailer, 


136         LIFE   OF   THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

I  will  resign  my  office  at  once."  And  few  scenes  can 
be  recorded  more  characteristic  of  him  than  on  one 
of  these  occasions,  when,  in  consequence  of  a  disturb- 
ance, he  had  been  obliged  to  send  away  several  boys, 
and  when,  in  the  midst  of  the  general  spirit  of  discon- 
tent which  this  excited,  he  stood  in  his  place  before 
the  assembled  school,  and  said,  "  It  is  not  necessary 
that  this  should  be  a  school  of  three  hundred,  or  one 
hundred,  or  of  fifty  boys ;  but  it  is  necessary  that  ir 
should  be  a  school  of  Christian  gentlemen/' 

The  means  of  carrying  out  these  principles  were,  of 
course,  various  :  they  may,  however,  for  the  sake  of 
convenience,  be  viewed  under  the  divisions  of  the  gen- 
eral discipline  of  the  school,  the  system  of  instruction, 
the  chapel  services,  and  his  own  personal  intercourse 
and  influence. 

I.  In  considering  his  general  management  of  the 
discipline  of  the  school,  it  will  only  be  possible  to 
touch  on  its  leading  features. 

i .  He  at  once  made  a  great  alteration  in  the  whole 
system  of  punishments  in  the  higher  part  of  the  school, 
"  keeping  it  as  much  as  possible  in  the  background, 
and  by  kindness  and  encouragement  attracting  the 
good  and  noble  feelings  of  those  with  whom  he  had 
to  deal."  As  this  appears  more  distinctly  elsewhere, 
it  is  needless  to  enlarge  upon  it  here ;  but  a  few  words 
may  be  necessary  to  explain  the  view  with  which,  for 
the  younger  part  of  the  school,  he  made  a  point  of 
maintaining,  to  a  certain  extent,  the  old  discipline 
of  public  schools. 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          137 

"  The  beau-ideal  of  school  discipline  with  regard  to  young 
boys  would  seem  to  be  this,  that  whilst  corporal  punishment 
was  retained  on  principle,  as  fitly  answering  to  and  marking 
the  naturally  inferior  state  of  boyhood,  and,  therefore,  as  con- 
veying no  peculiar  degradation  to  persons  in  such  a  state,  we 
should  cherish  and  encourage  to  the  utmost  all  attempts  made 
by  the  several  boys,  as  individuals,  to  escape  from  the  natural 
punishment  of  their  age,  by  rising  above  its  naturally  low  tone 
of  principle." 

Flogging,  therefore,  for  the  younger  part,  he  retained ; 
but  it  was  confined  to  moral  offences,  such  as  lying, 
drinking,  and  habitual  idleness;  while  his  aversion  to 
inflicting  it  rendered  it  still  less  frequent  in  practice 
than  it  would  have  been  according  to  the  rule  he  had 
laid  down  for  it.  But  in  answer  to  the  argument  used 
in  a  liberal  journal,  that  it  was  even  for  these  offences 
and  for  this  age  degrading,  he  replied  with  character- 
istic emphasis,  — 

"  I  knowVell  of  what  feeling  this  is  the  expression  :  it  origi- 
nates in  that  proud  notion  of  personal  independence  which  is 
neither  reasonable  nor  Christian,  but  essentially  barbarian. 
It  visited  Europe  with  all  the  curses  of  the  age  of  chivalry,  and 
is  threatening  us  now  with  those  of  Jacobinism.  ...  At  an 
age  when  it  is  almost  impossible  to  find  a  true  manly  sense  of 
the  degradation  of  guilt  or  faults,  where  is  the  wisdom  of  en- 
couraging a  fantastic  sense  of  the  degradation  of  personal  cor- 
rection ?  What  can  be  more  false,  or  more  adverse  to  the 
simplicity,  sobriety,  and  humbleness  of  mind,  which  are  the 
best  ornament  of  youth,  and  the  best  promise  of  a  noble  man- 
hood ? " 

2.  But  his  object  was,  of  course,  far  higher  than  to 
check  particular  vices.  "What  I  want  to  see  in  the 


138         LIFE   OF  7'HOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

school,"  he  said,  "  and  what  I  cannot  find,  is  an  ab- 
horrence of  evil :  I  always  think  of  the  psalm,  '  Nei- 
ther doth  he  abhor  any  thing  that  is  evil.'  "  Amongst 
all  the  causes  which,  in  his  judgment,  contributed  to 
the  absence  of  this  feeling,  and  to  the  moral  childish- 
ness, which  he  considered  the  great  curse  of  public 
schools,  the  chief  seemed  to  him  to  lie  in  the  spirit 
which  was  there  encouraged  of  combination,  of  com- 
panionship, of  excessive  deference  to  the  public  opin- 
ion prevalent  in  the  school.  Peculiarly  repugnant  as 
this  spirit  was  at  once  to  his  own  reverence  for  lawful 
authority,  and  to  his  dislike  of  servile  submission  to 
unlawful  authority;  fatal  as  he  deemed  it  to  all  ap- 
proach to  sympathy  between  himself  and  his  scholars, 
to  all  free  and  manly  feeling  in  individual  boys,  to  all 
real  and  permanent  improvement  of  the  institution  it- 
self,— it  gave  him  more  pain  when  brought  prominently 
before  him,  than  any  other  evil  in  the  school.  At  the 
very  sight  of  a  knot  of  vicious  or  careless  boys  gathered 
together  around  the  great  schoolhouse  fire,  "  It  makes 
me  think,"  he  would  say,  "  that  I  see  the  Devil  in  the 
midst  of  them."  From  first  to  last,  it  was  the  great 
subject  to  which  all  his  anxiety  converged.  No  half- 
year  ever  passed  without  his  preaching  upon  it ;  he 
turned  it  over  and  over  in  every  possible  point  of  view ; 
he  dwelt  on  it  as  the  one  master- fault  of  all.  "If  the 
spirit  of  Elijah  were  to  stand  in  the  midst  of  us,  and 
we  were  to  ask  him,  '  What  shall  we  do  then  ? '  his 
answer  would  be,  '  Fear  not,  nor  heed  one  another's 
voices,  but  fear  and  heed  the  voice  of  God  only,' " 
(MS.  sermon  on  Luke  iii.  10.  1833.) 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          139 

Against  this  evil  he  felt  that  no  efforts  of  good  in- 
dividual example,  or  of  personal  sympathy  with  indi- 
vidual masters,  could  act  effectually,  unless  there  were 
something  to  counteract  it  constantly  amongst  the 
boys  themselves. 

"  He,  therefore,  who  wishes  "  (to  use  his  own  words)  "  really 
to  improve  public  education,  would  do  well  to  direct  his  atten- 
tion to  this  point,  and  to  consider  how  there  can  be  infused 
into  a  society  of  boys  such  elements  as,  without  being  too  dis- 
similar to  coalesce  thoroughly  with  the  rest,  shall  yet  be  so 
superior  as  to  raise  the  character  of  the  whole.  It  would  be 
absurd  to  say  that  any  school  has  as  yet  fully  solved  this  prob- 
lem. I  am  convinced,  however,  that  in  the  peculiar  relation 
of  the  highest  form  to  the  rest  of  the  boys,  such  as  it  exists 
in  our  great  public  schools,  there  is  to  be  found  the  best 
means  of  answering  it.  This  relation  requires,  in  many  re- 
spects, to  be  improved  in  its  character ;  some  of  its  features 
should  be  softened,  others  elevated ;  but  here,  and  here  only, 
is  the  engine  which  can  effect  the  end  desired."  (Journ.  Ed. 
p.  292.) 

In  other  words,  he  determined  to  use,  and  to  im- 
prove to  the  utmost,  the  existing  machinery  of  the 
Sixth  Form,  and  of  fagging;  understanding  by  the 
Sixth  Form,  the  thirty  boys  who  composed  the  highest, 
class,  —  "  those  who,  having  risen  to  the  highest  form 
in  the  school,  will  probably  be  at  once  the  oldest  and 
the  strongest  and  the  cleverest,  and,  if  the  school  be 
well  ordered,  the  most  respectable  in  application  and 
general  character;"  and  by  fagging,  "  the  power 
given  by  the  supreme  authorities  of  the  school  to  the 
Sixth  Form,  to  be  exercised  by  them  over  the  lower 


I4O         LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

boys,  for  the  sake  of  securing  a  regular  government 
amongst  the  boys  themselves,  and  avoiding  the  evils 
of  anarchy,  in  other  words,  of  the  lawless  tyranny  of 
physical  strength."  (Journ.  Ed.  pp.  286,  287.) 

In  many  points,  he  took  the  institution  as  he  found 
it,  and  as  he  remembered  it  at  Winchester.  The  re- 
sponsibility of  checking  bad  practices  without  the  in- 
tervention of  the  masters,  the  occasional  settlement  of 
difficult  cases  of  school  government,  the  subjection 
of  brute  force  to  some  kind  of  order,  involved  in  the 
maintenance  of  such  an  authority,  had  been  more  or 
less  produced  under  the  old  system,  both  at  Rugby 
and  elsewhere.  But  his  zeal  in  its  defence,  and  his 
confident  reliance  upon  it  as  the  keystone  of  his  whole 
government,  were  eminently  characteristic  of  himself. 
It  was  a  point,  moreover,  on  which  the  spirit  of  the 
age  set  strongly  and  increasingly  against  him,  on  which 
there  was  a  general  tendency  to  yield  to  the  popular 
outcry,  and  on  which  the  clamor,  that  at  one  time 
assailed  him,  was  ready  to  fasten  as  a  subject  where 
all  parties  could  concur  in  their  condemnation.  But 
he  was  immovable ;  and  though,  on  his  first  coming, 
he  had  felt  himself  called  upon  rather  to  restrain  the 
authority  of  the  Sixth  Form  from  abuses,  than  to  guard 
it  from  encroachments,  yet,  now  that  the  whole  system 
was  denounced  as  cruel  and  absurd,  he  delighted  to 
stand  forth  as  its  champion.  The  power,  which  was 
most  strongly  condemned,  of  personal  chastisement 
vested  in  the  Praepostors  over  those  who  resisted  their 
authority,  he  firmly  maintained  as  essential  to  the  gen- 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          14! 

eral  support  of  the  good  order  of  the  place;  and 
there  was  no  obloquy  which  he  would  not  undergo  in 
the  protection  of  a  boy  who  had  by  due  exercise  of 
this  discipline  made  himself  obnoxious  to  the  school, 
the  parents,  or  the  public. 

But  the  importance  which  he  attached  to  it  arose 
from  his  regarding  it  not  only  as  an  efficient  engine  of 
discipline,  but  as  the  chief  means  of  creating  a  respect 
for  moral  and  intellectual  excellence,  and  of  diffusing 
his  own  influence  through  the  mass  of  the  school. 
Whilst  he  made  the  Praepostors  rely  upon  his  support 
in  all  just  use  of  their  authority,  as  well  as  on  his 
severe  judgment  of  all  abuse  of  it,  he  endeavored  also 
to  make  them  feel  that  they  were  actually  fellow- work- 
ers with  him  for  the  highest  good  of  the  school,  upon 
the  highest  principles  and  motives — that  they  had, 
with  him,  a  moral  responsibility  and  a  deep  interest  in 
the  real  welfare  of  the  place.  Occasionally  during  his 
whole  stay,  and  regularly  at  the  beginning  or  end  of 
every  half-year  during  his  later  years,  he  used  to  make 
short  addresses  to  them  on  their  duties,  or  on  the  gen- 
eral state  of  the  school,  one  of  which,  as  an  illustra- 
tion of  his  general  mode  of  speaking  and  acting  with 
them,  it  has  been  thought  worth  while  to  give,  as 
nearly  as  his  pupils  could  remember  it,  in  the  very 
words  he  used.  After  making  a  few  remarks  to  them 
on  their  work  in  the  lessons,  "I  will  now/'  he  pro- 
ceeded, "  say  a  few  words  to  you,  as  I  promised. 
Speaking  to  you,  as  to  young  men  who  can  enter  into 
what  I  say,  I  wish  you  to  feel  that  you  have  another 


142         LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

duty  to  perform,  holding  the  situation  that  you  do 
in  the  school :  of  the  importance  of  this,  I  wish  you 
all  to  feel  sensible,  and  of  the  enormous  influence 
you  possess,  in  ways  in  which  we  cannot,  for  good  or 
for  evil,  on  all  below  you ;  and  I  wish  you  to  see  fully 
how  many  and  great  are  the  opportunities  offered 
to  you  here  of  doing  good  —  good,  too,  of  lasting 
benefit  to  yourselves  as  well  as  to  others ;  there  is  no 
place  where  you  will  find  better  opportunities  for  some 
time  to  come,  and  you  will  then  have  reason  to  look 
back  to  your  life  here  with  the  greatest  pleasure. 
You  will  soon  find,  when  you  change  your  life  here  for 
that  at  the  universities,  how  very  few  in  comparison 
they  are  there,  however  willing  you  may  then  be,  —  at 
any  rate  during  the  first  part  of  your  life  there.  That 
there  is  good,  working 'in  the  school,  I  most  fully  be- 
lieve, and  we  cannot  feel  too  thankful  for  it :  in  many 
individual  instances,  in  different  parts  of  the  school,  I 
have  seen  the  change  from  evil  to  good  —  to  mention 
instances  would,  of  course,  be  wrong.  The  state  of  the 
school  is  a  subject  of  congratulation  to  us  all,  but  only 
so  far  as  to  encourage  us  to  increased  exertions ;  and  I 
am  sure  we  ought  all  to  feel  it  a  subject  of  most  sincere 
thankfulness  to  God  \  but  we  must  not  stop  here ;  we 
must  exert  ourselves  with  earnest  prayer  to  God  for  its 
continuance.  And  what  I  have  often  said  before,  I 
repeat  now  :  what  we  must  look  for  here  is,  first,  reli- 
gious and  moral  principles ;  secondly,  gentlemanly 
conduct ;  thirdly,  intellectual  ability." 

Nothing,  accordingly,  so  shook  his  hopes  of  doing 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          143 

good,  as  weakness  or  misconduct  in  the  Sixth.  "  You 
should  feel,"  he  said,  "  like  officers  in  the  army  or 
navy,  whose  want  of  moral  courage  would,  indeed,  be 
thought  cowardice."  "When  I  have  confidence  in 
the  Sixth,"  was  the  end  of  one  of  his  farewell  ad- 
dresses, "  there  is  no  post  in  England  which  I  would 
exchange  for  this ;  but,  if  they  do  not  support  me,  I 
must  go." 

It  may  well  be  imagined  how  important  this  was  as 
an  instrument  of  education,  independently  of  the 
weight  of  his  own  personal  qualities.  Exactly  at  the 
age  when  boys  begin  to  acquire  some  degree  of  self- 
respect,  and  some  desire  for  the  respect  of  others, 
they  were  treated  with  confidence  by  one  whose  con- 
fidence they  could  not  but  regard  as  worth  having, 
and  found  themselves  in  a  station  where  their  own 
dignity  could  not  be  maintained  except  by  consistent 
good  conduct.  And  exactly  at  a  time  when  manly 
aspirations  begin  to  expand,  they  found  themselves 
invested  with  functions  of  government,  great  beyond 
their  age,  yet  naturally  growing  out  of  their  position  ; 
whilst  the  ground  of  solemn  responsibility,  on  which 
they  were  constantly  taught  that  their  authority  rested, 
had  a  general,  though  of  course  not  universal,  ten- 
dency to  counteract  any  notions  of  mere  personal  self- 
importance. 

"  I  cannot  deny  that  you  have  an  anxious  duty,  —  a  duty 
which  some  might  suppose  was  too  heavy  for  your  years.  But 
it  seems  to  me  the  nobler  as  well  as  the  truer  way  of  stating 
the  case,  to  say  that  it  is  the  great  privilege  of  this  and  other 


144         LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

such  institutions,  to  anticipate  the  common  time  of  manhood ; 
that  by  their  whole  training  they  fit  the  character  for  manly 
duties  at  an  age  when,  under  another  system,  such  duties 
would  be  impracticable ;  that  there  is  not  imposed  upon  you 
too  heavy  a  burden,  but  that  you  are  capable  of  bearing,  with- 
out injury,  what  to  others  might  be  a  burden;  and  therefore  to 
diminish  your  duties,  and  lessen  your  responsibility,  would  be  no 
kindness,  but  a  degradation,  —  an  affront  to  you  and  to  the 
school."  (Sermons,  vol.  v.  p.  59.) 

3.  Whilst  he  looked  to  the  Sixth  Form  as  the  ordi- 
nary corrective  for  the  ordinary  evils  of  a  public 
school,  he  still  felt  that  these  evils  from  time  to  time 
developed  themselves  in  a  shape  which  demanded 
peculiar  methods  to  meet  them,  and  which  may  best 
be  explained  by  one  of  his  letters. 

"  My  own  school  experience  has  taught  me  the  monstrous 
evil  of  a  state  of  low  principle  prevailing  amongst  those  who 
set  the  tone  to  the  rest.  I  can  neither  theoretically  nor  practi- 
cally defend  our  public-school  system,  where  the  boys  are  left 
so  very  much  alone  to  form  a  distinct  society  of  their  own,  un- 
less you  assume  that  the  upper  class  shall  be  capable  of  being 
in  a  manner  //eo^ra*  between  the  masters  and  the  mass  of  the 
boys ;  that  is,  shall  be  capable  of  receiving,  and  transmitting  to 
the  rest,  through  their  example  and  influence,  right  principles 
of  conduct,  instead  of  those  extremely  low  ones  which  are  nat- 
ural to  a  society  of  boys  left  wholly  to  form  their  own  standard 
of  right  and  wrong.  Now,  when  I  get  any  in  this  part  of  the 
school  who  are  not  to  be  influenced,  —  who  have  neither  the 
will  nor  the  power  to  influence  others,  —  not  from  being  inten- 
tionally bad,  but  from  very  low  wit,  and  extreme  childishness 
or  coarseness  of  character  —  the  evil  is  so  great,  not  only  neg- 
atively but  positively  (for  their  low  and  false  views  are  greed- 
ily caught  up  by  those  below  them),  that  I  know  not  how  to 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          145 

proceed,  or  how  to  hinder  the  school  from  becoming  a  place 
of  education  for  evil  rather  than  for  good,  except  by  getting 
rid  of  such  persons.  And  then  comes  the  difficulty,  that  the 
parents  who  see  their  sons  only  at  home  —  that  is  just  where 
the  points  of  character  which  are  so  injurious  fiere  are  not 
called  into  action  —  can  scarcely  be  brought  to  understand 
why  they  should  remove  them ;  and  having,  as  most  people 
have,  only  the  most  vague  ideas  as  to  the  real  nature  of  a  pub- 
lic school,  they  cannot  understand  what  harm  they  are  receiv- 
ing, or  doing  to  others,  if  they  do  not  get  into  some  palpable 
scrape,  which  very  likely  they  never  would  do.  More  puzzling 
still  is  it,  when  you  have  many  boys  of  this  description,  so  that 
the  evil  influence  is  really  very  great,  and  yet  there  is  not  one 
of  the  set  whom  you  would  set  down  as  a  really  bad  fellow  if 
taken  alone ;  but  most  of  them  would  really  do  very  well  if 
they  were  not  together,  and  in  a  situation  where,  unluckily, 
their  age  and  size  lead  them,  unavoidably,  to  form  the  laws, 
and  guide  the  opinion,  of  their  society:  whereas,  they  are 
wholly  unfit  to  lead  others,  and  are  so  slow  at  receiving  good 
influences  themselves,  that  they  want  to  be  almost  exclusively 
with  older  persons,  instead  of  being  principally  with  younger 
ones." 

The  evil  undoubtedly  was  great ;  and  the  difficulty,, 
which  he  describes,  in  the  way  of  its  removal,  tended 
to  aggravate  the  evil.  When  first  he  entered  on  his 
post  at  Rugby,  there  was  a  general  feeling  in  the 
country,  that,  so  long  as  a  boy  kept  himself  from  of- 
fences sufficiently  enormous  to  justify  expulsion,  he 
had  a  kind  of  right  to  remain  in  a  public  school ;  that 
the  worse  and  more  troublesome  to  parents  were  their 
sons,  the  more  did  a  public  school  seem  the  precise 
remedy  for  them;  that  the  great  end  of  a  public 
school,  in  short,  was  to  flog  the  vices  out  of  bad  boys. 


146         LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,  D.D. 

Hence  much  indignation  was  excited  when  boys  were 
sent  away  for  lesser  offences :  an  unfailing  supply  of 
vicious  sons  was  secured,  and  scrupulous  parents  were 
naturally  reluctant  to  expose  their  boys  to  the  influ- 
ence of  such  associates. 

His  own  determination  had  been  fixed  long  before 
he  came  to  Rugby ;  and  it  was  only  after  ascertaining 
that  his  power  in  this  respect  would  be  absolute,  that 
he  consented  to  become  a  candidate  for  the  post. 
The  retention  of  boys  who  were  clearly  incapable  of 
deriving  good  from  the  system,  or  whose  influence  on 
others  was  decidedly  and  extensively  pernicious, 
seemed  to  him  not  a  necessary  part  of  the  trials  of 
.school,  but  an  inexcusable  and  intolerable  aggravation 
of  them.  "  Till  a  man  learns  that  the  first,  second, 
and  third  duty  of  a  schoolmaster  is  to  get  rid  of  un- 
promising subjects,  a  great  public  school,"  he  said, 
"  will  never  be  what  it  might  be,  and  what  it  ought  to 
be."  The  remonstrances  which  he  encountered,  both 
on  public  and  private  grounds,  were  vehement  and 
numerous.  But  on  these  terms  alone  had  he  taken 
his  office ;  and  he  solemnly  and  repeatedly  declared, 
that  on  no  other  terms  could  he  hold  it,  or  justify  the 
existence  of  the  public-school  system  in  a  Christian 
country. 

The  cases  which  fell  under  this  rule  included  all 
shades  of  character,  from  the  hopelessly  bad  up  to  the 
really  good,  who  yet  from  their  peculiar  circumstances 
might  be  receiving  great  injury  from  the  system  of  a 
public-school,  —  grave  moral  offences  frequently  re- 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          147 

peated;  boys  banded  together  in  sets,  to  the  great 
harm  of  individuals  or  of  the  school  at  large ;  over- 
grown boys,  whose  age  and  size  gave  them  influence 
over  others,  and  made  them  unfit  subjects  for  corpo- 
ral punishment,  whilst  the  low  place  which,  either 
from  idleness  or  dulness,  they  held  in  the  school,  en- 
couraged all  the  childish  and  low  habits  to  which  they 
were  naturally  tempted.  He  would  retain  boys  after 
offences  which,  considered  in  themselves,  would  seem 
to  many  almost  deserving  of  expulsion  :  he  would  re- 
quest the  removal  of  others  for  offences  which  to  many 
would  seem  venial.  In  short,  he  was  decided  by  the 
ultimate  result  on  the  whole  character  of  the  individ- 
ual, or  on  the  general  state  of  the  school. 

It  was  on  every  account  essential  to  the  carrying 
out  of  his  principle,  that  he  should  mark  in  every  way 
the  broad  distinction  between  this  kind  of  removal, 
and  what  in  the  strict  sense  of  the  word  used  to  be 
called  expulsion.  The  latter  was  intended  by  him  as 
a  punishment  and  lasting  disgrace,  was  inflicted  pub- 
licly and  with  extreme  solemnity,  was  of  very  rare 
occurrence,  and  only  for  gross  and  overt  offences. 
But  he  took  pains  to  show  that  removal,  such  as  is 
here  spoken  of,  whether  temporary  or  final,  was  not 
disgraceful  or  penal,  but  intended  chiefly,  if  not  solely, 
for  a  protection  of  the  boy  himself  or  his  schoolfellows. 
Often  it  would  be  wholly  unknown  who  were  thus 
dismissed,  or  why ;  latterly  he  generally  allowed  such 
cases  to  remain  till  the  end  of  the  half-year,  that  their 
removal  might  pass  altogether  unnoticed. 


148         LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

This  system  was  not  pursued  without  difficulty  :  the 
inconvenience  attendant  upon  such  removals  was  occa- 
sionally very  great ;  sometimes  the  character  of  the 
boy  may  have  been  mistaken ;  the  difficulty  of  explain- 
ing the  true  nature  of  the  transaction  to  parents  was 
considerable ;  an  exaggerated  notion  was  entertained 
of  the  extent  to  which  this  view  was  carried. 

To  administer  such  a  system  required  higher  quali- 
fications in  a  head  master  than  mere  scholarship  or 
mere  zeal.  What  enabled  him  to  do  so  successfully 
was  the  force  of  his  character,  his  determination  to 
carry  out  his  principles  through  a  host  of  particular 
obstacles ;  his  largeness  of  view,  which  endeavored  to 
catch  the  distinctive  features  of  every  case ;  the  con- 
sciousness which  he  felt,  and  made  others  feel,  of  the 
uprightness  and  purity  of  his  intentions.  The  predic- 
tions that  boys  who  failed  at  school  would  turn  out 
well  with  private  tutors,  were  often  acknowledged  to 
be  verified  in  cases  where  the  removal  had  been  most 
complained  of;  the  diminution  of  corporal  punish- 
ment in  the  school  was  necessarily  much  facilitated ; 
a  salutary  effect  was  produced  on  the  boys  by  impress- 
ing upon  them,  that  even  slight  offences,  which  came 
under  the  head  master's  eye,  were  swelling  the  sum  of 
misconduct  which  might  end  in  removal ;  whilst  many 
parents  were  displeased  by  the  system,  others  were 
induced  to  send  "  as  many  boys,"  he  said,  "  and  more, 
than  he  sent  away ; "  lastly,  he  succeeded  in  shaking 
the  old  notion  of  the  conditions  under  which  boys 
must  be  allowed  to  remain  at  school,  and  in  impress- 


LIFE   OF   THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          149 

ing  on  others  the  standard  of  moral  progress  which 
he  endeavored  himself  to  enforce. 

The  following  letter  to  one  of  the  assistant  masters 
expresses  his  mode  of  meeting  the  attacks  to  which 
he  was  exposed  on  the  two  subjects  last  mentioned. 

"  I  do  not  choose  to  discuss  the  thickness  of  Praepostors' 
sticks,  or  the  greater  or  less  blackness  of  a  boy's  bruises,  for 
the  amusement  of  all  the  readers  of  the  newspapers ;  nor  do 
I  care  in  the  slightest  degree  about  the  attacks,  if  the  masters 
themselves  treat  them  with  indifference.  If  they  appear  to 
mind  them,  or  to  fear  their  effect  on  the  school,  the  apprehen- 
sion in  this,  as  in  many  other  instances,  will  be  likely  to  verify 
itself.  For  my  own  part,  I  confess  that  I  will  not  condescend 
to  justify  the  school  against  attacks,  when  I  believe  that  it  is 
going  on,  not  only  not  ill,  but  positively  well.  Were  it  really 
otherwise,  I  think  I  should  be  as  sensitive  as  any  one,  and  very 
soon  give  up  the  concern.  But  these  attacks  are  merely  what 
I  bargained  for,  so  far  as  they  relate  to  my  conduct  in  the 
school,  because  they  are  directed  against  points  on  which  my 
4  ideas '  were  fixed  before  I  came  to  Rugby,  and  are  only  more 
fixed  now ;  e.g.,  that  the  authority  of  the  Sixth  Form  is  essen- 
tial to  the  good  of  the  school,  and  is  to  be  upheld  through  all 
obstacles  from  within  and  from  without,  and  that  sending  away 
boys  is  a  necessary  and  regular  part  of  a  good  system,  not  as 
a  punishment  to  one,  but  as  a  protection  to  others.  Undoubt- 
edly it  would  be  a  better  system  if  there  was  no  evil ;  but,  evil 
being  unavoidable,  we  are  not  a  jail  to  keep  it  in,  but  a  place 
of  education  where  we  must  cast  it  out,  to  prevent  its  taint 
from  spreading.  Meanwhile  let  us  mind  our  own  work,  and 
try  to  perfect  the  execution  of  our  own  '  ideas/  and  we  shall 
have  enough  to  do,  and  enough  always  to  hinder  us  from  being 
satisfied  with  ourselves ;  but,  when  we  are  attacked,  we  have 
some  right  to  answer  with  Scipio,  who,  scorning  to  reply  to  a 
charge  of  corruption,  said,  *  Hoc  die  cum  Hannibale  bene  et 


ISO         LIFE   OF   THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

feliciter  pugnavi : '  we  have  done   enough  good,  and  undone 
enough  evil,  to  allow  us  to  hold  our  assailants  cheap." 


II.  The  spirit  in  which  he  entered  on  the  instruc- 
tion of  the  school,  constituting,  as  it  did,  the  main 
business  of  the  place,  may  perhaps  best  be  understood 
from  a  particular  exemplification  of  it  in  the  circum- 
stances under  which  he  introduced  a  prayer  before 
the  first  lesson  in  the  Sixth  Form,  over  and  above  the 
general  prayers  read  before  the  whole  school.  On 
the  morning  on  which  he  first  used  it,  he  said  that  he 
had  been  much  troubled  to  find  that  the  change  from 
attendance  on  the  death-bed  of  one  of  the  boys  in  his 
house  to  his  school-work  had  been  very  great :  he 
thought  that  there  ought  not  to  be  such  a  contrast, 
and  that  it  was  probably  owing  to  the  school-work  not 
being  sufficiently  sanctified  to  God's  glory ;  that,  if  it 
was  made  really  a  religious  work,  the  transition  to  it 
from  a  death-bed  would  be  slight :  he  therefore  in- 
tended for  the  future  to  offer  a  prayer  before  the  first 
lesson,  that  the  day's  work  might  be  undertaken  and 
carried  on  solely  to  the  glory  of  God  and  their  im- 
provement, —  that  he  might  be  the  better  enabled  to 
do  his  work. 

Under  this  feeling,  all  the  lessons,  in  his  eyes,  and 
not  only  those  which  were  more  directly  religious,  were 
invested  with  a  moral  character;  and  his  desire  to 
raise  the  general  standard  of  knowledge  and  applica- 
tion in  the  school  was  as  great  as  if  it  had  been  his 
sole  object. 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          l$l 

He  introduced,  with  this  view,  a  variety  of  new  reg- 
ulations ;  contributed  liberally  himself  to  the  founda- 
tion of  prizes  and  scholarships,  as  incentives  to  study, 
and  gave  up  much  of  his  leisure  to  the  extra  labor  of 
new  examinations  for  the  various  forms,  and  of  a 
yearly  examination  for  the  whole  school.  The  spirit 
of  industry  which  his  method  excited  in  his  better 
scholars,  and  more  or  less  in  the  school  at  large,  was 
considerable ;  and  it  was  often  complained,  that  their 
minds  and  constitutions  were  overworked  by  prema- 
ture exertion.  Whether  this  was  the  case  more  at 
Rugby  than  in  other  schools,  since  the  greater  exer- 
tions generally  required  in  all  parts  of  education,  it  is 
difficult  to  determine.  He  himself  would  never  allow 
the  truth  of  it,  though  maintaining  that  it  would  be  a 
very  great  evil  if  it  were  so.  The  Greek  union  of  the 

ap€TYj  yvfjLvacTTLKr)  with  the  aptrr]  //.ovcri/cr),   he   thought 

invaluable  in  education,  and  he  held  that  the  freedom 
of  the  sports  of  public  schools  was  particularly  favor- 
able to  it;  and,  whenever  he  saw  that  boys  were 
reading  too  much,  he  always  remonstrated  with  them, 
relaxed  their  work,  and,  if  they  were  in  the  upper  part 
of  the  school,  would  invite  them  to  his  house  in  the 
half-year  or  the  holidays  to  refresh  them. 

He  had  a  strong  belief  in  the  general  union  of 
moral  and  intellectual  excellence.  "  I  have  now  had 
some  years'  experience,"  he  once  said  in  preaching 
at  Rugby.  "  I  have  known  but  too  many  of  those 
who  in  their  utter  folly  have  said  in  their  heart,  there 
was  no  God ;  but  the  sad  sight  —  for  assuredly  none 


152          LIFE   OF   THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

can  be  more  sad  —  of  a  powerful,  an  earnest,  and  an 
inquiring  mind  seeking  truth,  yet  not  finding  it  —  the 
horrible  sight  of  good  deliberately  rejected,  and  evil 
deliberately  chosen  —  the  grievous  wreck  of  earthly 
wisdom  united  with  spiritual  folly  —  I  believe  that  it 
has  been,  that  it  is,  that  it  may  be  —  Scripture  speaks 
of  it,  the  experience  of  others  has  witnessed  it ;  but  I 
thank  God  that  in  my  own  experience  I  have  never 
witnessed  it  yet :  I  have  still  found  that  folly  and 
thoughtlessness  have  gone  to  evil;  that  thought  and 
manliness  have  been  united  with  faith  and  goodness." 
And  in  the  case  of  boys,  his  experience  led  him,  he 
said,  "  more  and  more  to  believe  in  this  connection, 
for  which  divers  reasons  may  be  given.  One,  and  a 
very  important  one,  is,  that  ability  puts  a  boy  in  sym- 
pathy with  his  teachers  in  the  matter  of  his  work,  and 
in  their  delight  in  the  works  of  great  minds ;  whereas 
a  dull  boy  has  much  more  sympathy  with  the  unedu- 
cated, and  others  to  whom  animal  enjoyments  are  all 
in  all."  "  I  am  sure,"  he  used  to  say,  "  that,  in  the 
case  of  boys,  the  temptations  of  intellect  are  not  com- 
parable to  the  temptations  of  dulness ; "  and  he  often 
dwelt  on  "  the  fruit  which  I  above  all  things  long  for, 
—  moral  thoughtfulness,  —  the  inquiring  love  of  truth 
going  along  with  the  devoted  love  of  goodness." 

But  for  mere  cleverness,  whether  in  boys  or  men, 
he  had  no  regard.  "  Mere  intellectual  acuteness,"  he 
used  to  say,  in  speaking  (for  example) of  lawyers,  "di- 
vested, as  it  is,  in  too  many  cases,  of  all  that  is  compre- 
hensive and  great  and  good,  is  to  me  more  revolting 


LIFE   OF   THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          153 

than  the  most  helpless  imbecility,  seeming  to  be  al- 
most like  the  spirit  of  Mephistopheles."  Often  when 
seen  in  union  with  moral  depravity,  he  would  be  in- 
clined to  deny  its  existence  altogether :  the  genera- 
tion of  his  scholars  to  which  he  looked  back  with  the 
greatest  pleasure,  was  not  that  which  contained  most 
instances  of  individual  talent,  but  that  which  had  al- 
together worked  steadily  and  industriously.  The  uni- 
versity honors  which  his  pupils  obtained  were  very 
considerable,  and  at  one  time  unrivalled  by  any 
school  in  England  ;  and  he  was  unfeignedly  delighted 
whenever  they  occurred.  But  he  never  laid  any  stress 
upon  them,  and  strongly  deprecated  any  system  which 
would  encourage  the  notion  of  their  being  the  chief 
end  to  be  answered  by  school  education.  He  would 
often  dwell  on  the  curious  alternations  of  cleverness 
or  dulness  in  school  generations,  which  seemed  to 
baffle  all  human  calculation  or  exertion.  "  What  we 
ought  to  do,  is  to  send  up  boys  who  will  not  be 
plucked."  A  mere  plodding  boy  was  above  all  others 
encouraged  by  him.  At  Laleham  he  had  once  got 
out  of  patience,  and  spoken  sharply  to  a  pupil  of  this 
kind,  when  the  pupil  looked  up  in  his  face,  and  said, 
"  Why  do  you  speak  angrily,  sir  ?  —  indeed,  I  am  do- 
ing the  best  that  I  can."  Years  afterwards  he  used  to 
tell  the  story  to  his  children,  and  said,  "  I  never  felt 
so  much  ashamed  in  my  life  :  that  look  and  that  speech 
I  have  never  forgotten."  And  though  it  would,  of 
course,  happen  that  clever  boys,  from  a  greater  sym- 
pathy with  his  understanding,  would  be  brought  into 


154         LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,  D.D. 

closer  intercourse  with  him,  this  did  not  affect  his  feel- 
ing, not  only  of  respect,  but  of  reverence,  to  those  who, 
without  ability,  were  distinguished  for  high  principle 
and  industry.  "  If  there  be  one  thing  on  earth  which 
is  truly  admirable,  it  is  to  see  God's  wisdom  blessing 
an  inferiority  of  natural  powers,  where  they  have  been 
honestly,  truly,  and  zealously  cultivated."  In  speak- 
ing of  a  pupil  of  this  character,  he  once  said,  "  I  would 
stand  to  that  man  hat  in  hand ;  "  and  it  was  his  feel- 
ing after  the  departure  of  such  a  one  that  drew  from 
him  the  most  personal,  perhaps  the  only  personal, 
praise,  which  he  ever  bestowed  on  any  boy  in  his 
Sermons.  (See  Sermons,  vol.  iii.  pp.  352,  353.) 

This  being  his  general  view,  it  remains  to  unfold  his 
ideas  of  school-instruction  in  detail. 

i.  That  classical  studies  should  be  the  basis  of  in- 
tellectual teaching,  he  maintained  from  the  first. 
"The  study  of  language,"  he  said,  "seems  to  me  as 
if  it  was  given  for  the  very  purpose  of  forming  the 
human  mind  in  youth ;  and  the  Greek  and  Latin  lan- 
guages, in  themselves  so  perfect,  and  at  the  same  time 
freed  from  the  insuperable  difficulty  which  must  attend 
any  attempt  to  teach  boys  philology  through  the 
medium  of  their  own  spoken  language,  seem  the  very 
instruments  by  which  this  is  to  be  effected."  But  a 
comparison  of  his  earlier  and  later  letters  will  show 
how  much  this  opinion  was  strengthened  in  later  years, 
and  how,  in  some  respects,  he  returned  to  parts  of  the 
old  system,  which  on  his  first  arrival  at  Rugby  he  had 
altered  or  discarded.  To  the  use  of  Latin  verse,  which 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          155: 

he  had  been  accustomed  to  regard  as  "  one  of  the 
most  contemptible  prettinesses  of  the  understanding/* 
"  I  am  becoming,"  he  said,  "  in  my  old  age  more  and 
more  a  convert."  Greek  and  Latin  grammars  in  Eng- 
lish, which  he  introduced  soon  after  he  came,  he  found 
were  attended  with  a  disadvantage,  because  the  rules 
which  in  Latin  fixed  themselves  in  the  boys'  memories,, 
when  learned  in  English  were  forgotten.  The  changes 
in  his  views  resulted,  on  the  whole,  from  his  increas- 
ing conviction,  that  "  it  was  not  knowledge,  but  the 
means  of  gaining  knowledge,  which  he  had  to  teach  ;  " 
as  well  as  by  his  increasing  sense  of  the  value  of  the 
ancient  authors,  as  belonging  really  to  a  period  of 
modern  civilization  like  our  own ;  the  feeling  that  in 
them,  "  with  a  perfect  abstraction  from  those  particu- 
lar names  and  associations  which  are  forever  biasing 
our  judgment  in  modern  and  domestic  instances,  the 
great  principles  of  all  political  questions,  whether  civil 
or  ecclesiastical,  are  perfectly  discussed  and  illustrated 
with  entire  freedom,  with  most  attractive  eloquence, 
and  with  profoundest  wisdom."  (Sermons,  vol.  iii.^ 
Preface,  p.  xiii.) 

From  time  to  time,  therefore,  as  in  the  "  Journal  of 
Education"  (vol.  vii.  p.  240),  where  his  reasons  are 
stated  at  length,  he  raised  his  voice  against  the  popu- 
lar outcry,  by  which  classical  instruction  was  at  that 
time  assailed.  And  it  was,  perhaps,  not  without  a 
share  in  producing  the  subsequent  re-action  in  its  favor, 
that  the  one  head  master  who,  from  his  political  con- 
nections and  opinions,  would  have  been  supposed  most 


156         LIFE    OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

likely  to  yield  to  the  clamor,  was  the  one  who  made 
the  most  deliberate  and  decided  protest  against  it. 

2.  But  what  was  true  of  his  union  of  new  with  old 
elements  in  the  moral  government  of  the  school,  ap- 
plies no  less  to  its  intellectual  management.  He  was 
the  first  Englishman  who  drew  attention  in  our  public 
schools  to  the  historical,  political,  and  philosophical 
value  of  philology  and  of  the  ancient  writers,  as  dis- 
tinguished from  the  mere  verbal  criticism  and  elegant 
scholarship  of  the  last  century.  And  besides  the  gen- 
eral impulse  which  he  gave  to  miscellaneous  reading, 
both  in  the  regular  examinations  and  by  encouraging 
the  tastes  of  particular  boys  for  geology  or  other  like 
pursuits,  he  incorporated  the  study  of  modern  history, 
modern  languages,  and  mathematics  into  the  work  of 
the  school,  which  attempt,  as  it  was  the  first  of  its 
kind,  so  it  was  at  one  time  the  chief  topic  of  blame 
and  praise  in  his  system  of  instruction.  The  reading 
of  a  considerable  portion  of  modern  history  was  effected 
without  difficulty :  but  the  endeavor  to  teach  mathe- 
matics and  modern  languages,  especially  the  latter, 
not  as  an  optional  appendage,  but  as  a  regular  part  of 
the  school  business,  was  beset  with  obstacles  which 
rendered  his  plan  less  successful  than  he  had  antici- 
pated; though  his  wishes,  especially  for  boys  who 
were  unable  to  reap  the  full  advantage  of  classical 
studies,  were  to  a  great  extent  answered. 

What  has  been  said,  relates  rather  to  his  system  of 
instruction  than  to  the  instruction  itself.  His  per- 
sonal share  in  the  teaching  of  the  younger  boys  was 


LIFE   OF   THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          157 

confined  to  the  general  examinations,  in  which  he  took 
an  active  part,  and  to  two  lessons  which  he  devoted  in 
every  week  to  the  hearing  in  succession  every  form  in 
the  school.  These  visits  were  too  transient  for  the 
boys  to  become  familiar  with  him,  but  great  interest 
was  always  excited  \  and,  though  the  chief  impression 
was  of  extreme  fear,  they  were  also  struck  by  the  way 
in  which  his  examinations  elicited  from  them  what- 
ever they  knew,  as  well  as  by  the  instruction  which 
they  received  merely  from  hearing  his  questions,  or 
from  seeing  the  effect  produced  upon  him  by  their 
answers.  But  the  chief  source  of  his  intellectual  as 
of  his  moral  influence  over  the  school  was  through 
the  Sixth  Form.  To  the  rest  of  the  boys  he  appeared 
almost  exclusively  as  a  master ;  to  them  he  appeared 
almost  exclusively  as  an  instructor;  it  was  in  the 
library  tower,  where  he  heard  their  lessons,  that  his 
pupils  became  first  really  acquainted  with  him,  and 
that  his  power  of  teaching,  in  which  he  found  at  once 
his  main  business  and  pleasure,  had  its  full  scope. 

It  has  been  attempted  hitherto  to  represent  his 
principles  of  education  as  distinct  from  himself:  but, 
in  proportion  as  we  approach  his  individual  teaching, 
this  becomes  impracticable ;  the  system  is  lost  in 
the  man ;  the  recollections  of  the  head  master  of 
Rugby  are  inseparable  from  the  recollections  of  the 
personal  guide  and  friend  of  his  scholars.  They  will 
at  once  recall  those  little  traits,  which,  however  minute 
in  themselves,  will  to  them  suggest  a  lively  image  of 
his  whole  manner.  They  will  remember  the  glance 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD^   D.D. 

with  which  he  looked  round  in  the  few  moments  of 
silence  before  the  lesson  began,  and  which  seemed  to 
speak  his  sense  of  his  own  position  and  of  theirs  also, 
as  the  heads  of  a  great  school ;  the  attitude  in  which 
he  stood,  turning  over  the  pages  of  Facciolati's  "  Lexi- 
con," or  Pole's  "  Synopsis,"  with  his  eye  fixed  upon 
the  boy  who  was  pausing  to  give  an  answer ;  the  well- 
known  changes  of  his  voice  and  manner,  so  faithfully 
representing  the  feeling  within.  They  will  recollect 
the  pleased  look  and  the  cheerful  "Thank  you,"  which 
followed  upon  a  successful  answer  or  translation ;  the 
fall  of  his  countenance  with  its  deepening  severity,  the 
stern  elevation  of  the  eyebrows,  the  sudden  "Sit 
down  "  which  followed  upon  the  reverse ;  the  courtesy 
and  almost  deference  to  the  boys,  as  to  his  equals  in 
society,  so  long  as  there  was  nothing  to  disturb  the 
friendliness  of  their  relation ;  the  startling  earnestness 
with  which  he  would  check  in  a  moment  the  slightest 
approach  to  levity  or  impertinence ;  the  confidence 
with  which  he  addressed  them  in  his  half-yearly  exhor- 
tations ;  the  expressions  of  delight  with  which,  when 
they  had  been  doing  well,  he  would  say  that  it  was  a 
constant  pleasure  to  him  to  come  into  the  library. 

His  whole  method  was  founded  on  the  principle 
of  awakening  the  intellect  of  every  individual  boy. 
Hence  it  was  his  practice  to  teach  by  questioning. 
As  a  general  rule,  he  never  gave  information,  except 
as  a  kind  of  reward  for  an  answer,  and  often  withheld 
it  altogether,  or  checked  himself  in  the  very  act  of 
uttering  it,  from  a  sense  that  those  whom  he  was  ad- 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          159 

dressing  had  not  sufficient  interest  or  sympathy  to 
entitle  them  to  receive  it.  His  explanations  were  as 
short  as  possible  —  enough  to  dispose  of  the  difficulty, 
and  no  more  ;  and  his  questions  were  of  a  kind  to  call 
the  attention  of  the  boys  to  the  real  point  of  every 
subject,  to  disclose  to  them  the  exact  boundaries  of 
what  they  knew,  or  did  not  know,  and  to  cultivate  a 
habit,  not  only  of  collecting  facts,  but  of  expressing 
themselves  with  facility,  and  of  understanding  the 
principles  on  which  their  facts  rested.  "You  come 
here,"  he  said,  "not  to  read,  but  to  learn  how  to  read  : " 
and  thus  the  greater  part  of  his  instructions  were  inter- 
woven with  the  process  of  their  own  minds ;  there  was 
a  continual  reference  to  their  thoughts,  an  acknowl- 
edgment that,  so  far  as  their  information  and  power 
of  reasoning  could  take  them,  they  ought  to  have  an 
opinion  of  their  own.  He  was  evidently  working  not 
for,  but  with,  the  form,  as  if  they  were  equally  interested 
with  himself  in  making  out  the  meaning  of  the  passage 
before  them.  His  object  was  to  set  them  right,  not 
by  correcting  them  at  once,  but  either  by  gradually 
helping  them  on  to  a  true  answer,  or  by  making  the 
answers  of  the  more  advanced  part  of  the  form  serve 
as  a  medium,  through  which  his  instructions  might  be 
communicated  to  the  less  advanced.  Such  a  system 
he  thought  valuable  alike  to  both  classes  of  boys.  To 
those  who  by  natural  quickness  or  greater  experience 
of  his  teaching  were  more  able  to  follow  his  instruc- 
tions, it  confirmed  the  sense  of  the  responsible  position 
which  they  held  in  the  school,  intellectually  as  well  as 


160         LIFE    OF   THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D, 

morally.  To  a  boy  less  ready  or  less  accustomed  to 
it,  it  gave  precisely  what  he  conceived  that  such  a 
character  required.  "  He  wants  this,"  to  use  his  own 
words,  "  and  he  wants  it  daily,  not  only  to  interest 
and  excite  him,  but  to  dispel  what  is  very  apt  to  grow 
around  a  lonely  reader  not  constantly  questioned,  —  a 
haze  of  indistinctness  as  to  a  consciousness  of  his  own 
knowledge  or  ignorance  :  he  takes  a  vague  impression 
for  a  definite  one,  an  imperfect  notion  for  one  that  is 
full  and  complete,  and  in  this  way  he  is  continually 
deceiving  himself." 

Hence,  also,  he  not  only  laid  great  stress  on  original 
compositions,  but  endeavored  so  to  choose  the  sub- 
jects of  exercises  as  to  oblige  them  to  read,  and  lead 
them  to  think,  for  themselves.  He  dealt  at  once  a 
death-blow  to  themes  (as  he  expressed  it)  on  "  Vir- 
tus est  bona  res,"  and  gave  instead  historical  or  geo- 
graphical descriptions,  imaginary  speeches  or  letters, 
etymological  accounts  of  words,  or  criticisms  of  books, 
or  put  religious  and  moral  subjects  in  such  a  form  as 
awakened  a  new  and  real  interest  in  them ;  as,  for 
example,  not  simply  "  carpe  diem,"  or  "  procrastina- 
tion is  the  thief  of  time,"  but,  "  carpere  diem  jubent 
Epicurei,  jubet  hoc  idem  Christus."  So  again,  in 
selecting  passages  for  translation  from  English  into 
Greek  or  Latin,  instead  of  taking  them  at  random 
from  "  The  Spectator"  or  other  such  works,  he  made  a 
point  of  giving  extracts,  remarkable  in  themselves, 
from  such  English  and  foreign  authors  as  he  most  ad- 
mired, so  as  indelibly  to  impress  on  the  minds  of  his 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          l6l 

pupils  some  of  the  most  striking  names  and  passages 
in  modern  literature.  "  Ha,  very  good  ! "  was  his 
well-known  exclamation  of  pleasure  when  he  met  with 
some  original  thought :  "  is  that  entirely  your  own  ?  or 
do  you  remember  any  thing  in  your  reading  that  sug- 
gested it  to  you?"  Style,  knowledge,  correctness  or 
incorrectness  of  statement  or  expression,  he  always 
disregarded  in  comparison  with  indication  or  promise 
of  real  thought.  "  I  call  that  the  best  theme,"  he 
said,  "  which  shows  that  the  boy  has  read  and  thought 
for  himself;  that  the  next  best,  which  shows  that  he 
has  read  several  books,  and  digested  what  he  has 
read;  and  that  the  worst,  which  shows  that  he  has 
followed  but  one  book,  and  followed  that  without 
reflection." 

The  interest  in  their  work  which  this  method  ex- 
cited in  the  boys  was  considerably  enhanced  by  the 
respect,  which,  even  without  regard  to  his  general 
character,  was  inspired  by  the  qualities  brought  out 
prominently  in  the  ordinary  course  of  lessons.  They 
were  conscious  of  (what  was  indeed  implied  in  his 
method  itself)  the  absence  of  display,  which  made  it 
clear  that  what  he  said  was  to  instruct  them,  not  to 
exhibit  his  own  powers  :  they  could  not  but  be  struck 
by  his  never  concealing  difficulties,  and  always  con- 
fessing ignorance  ;  acknowledging  mistakes  in  his  edi- 
tion of  Thucydides  ;  and  on  Latin  verses,  mathematics, 
or  foreign  languages,  appealing  for  help  or  information 
to  boys  whom  he  thought  better  qualified  than  himself 
to  give  it.  Even  as  an  example,  it  was  not  without  its 


1 62         LfFE   OF   THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

use,  to  witness  daily  the  power  of  combination  and  con- 
centration on  his  favorite  subjects  which  had  marked 
him,  even  from  a  boy,  and  which  especially  appeared 
in  his  illustrations  of  ancient  by  modern,  and  modern 
by  ancient,  history.  The  wide  discursiveness  with 
which  he  brought  the  several  parts  of  their,  work  to 
bear  on  each  other ;  the  readiness  with  which  he  re- 
ferred them  to  the  sources  and  authorities  of  informa- 
tion, when  himself  ignorant  of  it ;  the  eagerness  with 
which  he  tracked  them  out  when  unknown,  —  taught 
them  how  wide  the  field  of  knowledge  really  was.  In 
poetry  it  was  almost  impossible  not  to  catch  something 
of  the  delight  and  almost  fervor  with  which,  as  he  came 
to  any  striking  passage,  he  would  hang  over  it,  reading 
it  over  and  over  again,  and  dwelling  upon  it  for  the 
mere  pleasure  which  every  word  seemed  to  give  him. 
In  history  or  philosophy,  events,  sayings,  and  authors 
would,  from  the  mere  fact  that  he  had  quoted  them, 
become  fixed  in  the  memory  of  his  pupils,  and  give 
birth  to  thoughts  and  inquiries  long  afterwards,  which, 
had  they  been  derived  through  another  medium,  would 
have  been  forgotten,  or  remained  unfruitful.  The  very 
scantiness  with  which  he  occasionally  dealt  out  his 
knowledge,  when  not  satisfied  that  the  boys  could 
enter  into  it,  whilst  it  often  provoked  a  half-angry 
feeling  of  disappointment  in  those  who  eagerly  treas- 
ured up  all  that  he  uttered,  left  an  impression  that 
the  source  from  which  they  drew  was  unexhausted  and 
unfathomed,  and  to  all  that  he  did  say  gave  a  double 
value. 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          163 

Intellectually  as  well  as  morally,  he  felt  that  the 
teacher  ought  himself  to  be  perpetually  learning,  and 
so  constantly  above  the  level  of  his  scholars.  "  I  am 
sure,"  he  said,  speaking  of  his  pupils  at  Laleham,  "that 
I  do  not  judge  of  them  or  expect  of  them  as  I  should 
if  I  were  not  taking  pains  to  improve  my  own  mind." 
For  this  reason,  he  maintained  that  no  schoolmaster 
ought  to  remain  at  his  post  much  more  than  fourteen 
or  fifteen  years,  lest  by  that  time  he  should  have  fallen 
behind  the  scholarship  of  the  age ;  and  by  his  own 
reading  and  literary  works  he  endeavored  constantly 
to  act  upon  this  principle  himself.  "For  nineteen 
out  of  twenty  boys,"  he  said  once  to  Archbishop 
Whately,  in  speaking  of  the  importance,  not  only  of 
information,  but  real  ability,  in  assistant  masters  (and 
his  remark,  of  course,  applied  still  more  to  the  station 
which  he  occupied  himself),  "'ordinary  men  may  be 
quite  sufficient ;  but  the  twentieth,  the  boy  of  real  tal- 
ents, who  is  more  important  than  the  others,  is  liable 
even  to  suffer  injury  from  not  being  early  placed  under 
the  training  of  one  whom  he  can,  on  close  inspection, 
look  up  to  as  his  superior  in  something  besides  mere 
knowledge.  The  dangers,"  he  observed,  "were  of 
various  kinds.  One  boy  may  acquire  a  contempt  for 
the  information  itself,  which  he  sees  possessed  by  a 
man  whom  he  feels,  nevertheless,  to  be  far  below  him. 
Another  will  fancy  himself  as  much  above  nearly  all 
the  world  as  he  feels  he  is  above  his  own  tutor,  and 
will  become  self-sufficient  and  scornful.  A  third  will 
believe  it  to  be  his  duty,  as  a  point  of  humility,  to 


1 64         LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   £>.£>. 

bring  himself  down  intellectually  to  a  level  with  one 
whom  he  feels  bound  to  reverence ;  and  thus  there 
have  been  instances  where  the  veneration  of  a  young 
man  of  ability  for  a  teacher  of  small  powers  has  been 
like  a  millstone  round  the  neck  of  an  eagle." 

His  practical  talent  as  a  scholar  consisted  in  his 
insight  into  the  general  structure  of  sentences  and  the 
general  principles  of  language,  and  in  his  determination 
to  discard  all  those  unmeaning  phrases  and  forms  of 
expression  by  which  so  many  writers  of  the  last  gen- 
eration, and  boys  of  all  generations,  endeavor  to  con- 
ceal their  ignorance.  In  Greek  and  Latin  composition 
his  exceeding  indifference  to  mere  excellence  of  style, 
when  unattended  by  any  thing  better,  made  it  difficult 
for  him  to  bestow  that  praise  which  was  necessary  to 
its  due  encouragement  as  a  part  of  the  school  work ; 
and  he  never  was  able  to  overcome  the  deficiency, 
which  he  always  felt  in  composing  or  correcting  verse- 
exercises,  even  after  his  increased  conviction  of  their 
use  as  a  mental  discipline.  But  to  prose  composition 
in  both  languages  he  had  from  the  first  attached  con- 
siderable importance,  not  only  as  the  best  means  of 
acquiring  a  sound  knowledge  of  the  ancient  authors, 
but  of  attaining  a  mastery  over  the  English  language 
also,  by  the  readiness  and  accuracy  of  expression  which 
it  imparted.  He  retained  to  himself  that  happy  facil- 
ity for  imitating  the  style  of  the  Greek  historians  and 
philosophers,  for  which  he  was  remarkable  in  youth ; 
whilst  his  Latin  prose  was  peculiar  for  combining  the 
force  of  common  Latinity  with  the  vigor  and  simplicity 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          1 6$ 

of  his  own  style,  —  perfectly  correct  and  idiomatic,  yet 
not  the  language  of  Cicero  or  Livy,  but  of  himself. 

In  the  common  lessons,  his  scholarship  was  chiefly 
displayed  in  his  power  of  extempore  translation  into 
English.  This  he  had  possessed  in  a  remarkable  de- 
gree from  the  time  that  he  was  a  boy  at  Winchester, 
where  the  practice  of  reading  the  whole  passage  from 
Greek  or  Latin  into  good  English  without  construing 
each  particular  sentence  word  by  word,  had  been 
much  encouraged  by  Dr.  Gabell ;  and  in  his  youthful 
vacations  during  his  Oxford  course,  he  used  to  enliven 
the  sick-bed  of  his  sister  Susannah  by  the  readiness 
with  which  in  the  evenings  he  would  sit  by  her  side, 
and  translate  book  after  book  of  the  history  of  Herodo- 
tus. So  essential  did  he  consider  this  method  to  a 
sound  study  of  the  classics,  that  he  published  an  elab- 
orate defence  of  it  in  "  The  Quarterly  Journal  of  Edu- 
cation ; "  and  when  delivering  his  Modern  History 
lectures  at  Oxford,  where  he  much  lamented  the  prev- 
alence of  the  opposite  system,  he  could  not  resist 
the  temptation  of  protesting  against  it,  with  no  other 
excuse  for  introducing  the  subject,  than  the  mention 
of  the  Latin  style  of  the  middle- age  historians.  In 
itself  he  looked  upon  it  as  the  only  means  of  really 
entering  into  the  spirit  of  the  ancient  authors ;  and 
requiring,  as  he  did,  besides,  that  the  translation  should 
be  made  into  idiomatic  English,  and,  if  possible,  into 
that  style  of  English  which  most  corresponded  to  the 
period  or  the  subject  of  the  Greek  or  Latin  writer  in 
question,  he  considered  it  further  as  an  excellent  ex- 


1 66         LIFE   OF   THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

ercise  in  the  principles  of  taste  and  in  the  knowledge 
and  use  of  the  English  language,  no  less  than  of  those 
of  Greece  and  Rome.  No  one  must  suppose  that 
these  translations  in  the  least  resembled  the  para- 
phrases in  his  notes  to  Thucydides,  which  are  avowedly 
not  translations,  but  explanations  :  he  was  constantly 
on  the  watch  for  any  inadequacy  or  redundancy  of 
expression ;  the  version  was  to  represent,  and  no 
more  than  represent,  the  exact  words  of  the  original : 
and  those  who,  either  as  his  colleagues  or  his  pupils, 
were  present  at  his  lessons,  well  know  the  accuracy 
with  which  every  shade  of  meaning  would  be  repro- 
duced in  a  different  shape,  and  the  rapidity  with  which 
he  would  pounce  on  any  mistake  of  grammar  or  con- 
struction, however  dexterously  concealed  in  the  folds 
of  a  free  translation. 

In  the  subject  of  the  lessons,  it  was  not  only  the 
language,  but  the  author  and  the  age,  which  rose  be- 
fore him  :  it  was  not  merely  a  lesson  to  be  got  through 
and  explained,  but  a  work  which  was  to  be  understood, 
to  be  condemned  or  to  be  admired.  It  was  an  old 
opinion  of  his,  which,  though  much  modified,  was  never 
altogether  abandoned,  that  the  mass  of  boys  had  not 
a  sufficient  appreciation  of  poetry  to  make  it  worth 
while  for  them  to  read  so  much  of  the  ancient  poets, 
in  proportion  to  prose  writers,  as  was  usual  when  he 
came  to  Rugby.  But  for  some  of  them  he  had,  be- 
sides, a  personal  distaste.  The  Greek  tragedians, 
though  reading  them  constantly,  and  portions  of  them 
with  the  liveliest  admiration,  he  thought  on  the  whole 


LIFE   OF  THOAfAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          l6/ 

greatly  overrated ;  and  still  more,  the  second-rate 
Latin  poets,  but  whom  he  seldom  used ;  and  some, 
such  as  Tibullus  and  Propertius,  never.  "  I  do  really 
think,"  he  said,  speaking  of  these  last  as  late  as  1842, 
"  that  any  examiners  incur  a  serious  responsibility  who 
require  or  encourage  the  reading  of  these  books  for 
scholarships  :  of  all  useless  reading,  surely  the  reading 
of  indifferent  poets  is  most  useless."  And  to  some 
of  them  he  had  a  yet  deeper  feeling  of  aversion.  It 
was  not  till  1835  that  he  himself  read  the  plays  of 
Aristophanes;  and  though  he  was  then  much  struck 
with  the  "  Clouds,"  and  ultimately  introduced  the 
partial  use  of  his  Comedies  in  the  school,  yet  his 
strong  moral  disapprobation  always  interfered  with 
his  sense  of  the  genius,  both  of  that  poet  and  Juvenal. 
But  of  the  classical  lessons  generally  his  enjoyment 
was  complete.  When  asked  once  whether  he  did  not 
find  the  repetition  of  the  same  lessons  irksome  to  him, 
"No,"  he  said  :  "there  is  a  constant  freshness  in  them  ; 
I  find  something  new  in  them  every  time  that  I  go 
over  them."  The  best  proof  of  the  pleasure  which  he 
took  in  them  is  the  distinct  impression  which  his 
scholars  retained  of  the  feeling,  often  rather  implied 
than  expressed,  with  which  he  entered  into  the  several 
works ;  the  enthusiasm  with  which,  both  in  the  public 
and  private  orations  of  Demosthenes,  he  would  con- 
template piece  by  piece  "  the  luminous  clearness  "  of 
the  sentences ;  the  affectionate  familiarity  which  he 
used  to  show  towards  Thucydides,  knowing,  as  he  did, 
the  substance  of  every  single  chapter  by  itself;  the 


1 68          LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

revival  of  youthful  interest  with  which  he  would  recur 
to  portions  of  the  works  of  Aristotle ;  the  keen  sense 
of  a  new  world  opening  before  him,  with  which  in  later 
years,  with  ever- increasing  pleasure,  he  entered  into 
the  works  of  Plato;  above  all,  his  childlike  enjoy- 
ment of  Herodotus,  and  that  "  fountain  of  beauty  and 
delight,  which  no  man,"  he  said,  "  can  ever  drain 
dry,"  the  poetry  of  Homer.  The  simple  language  of 
that  early  age  was  exactly  what  he  was  most  able  to 
reproduce  in  his  own  simple  and  touching  translations ; 
and  his  eyes  would  fill  with  tears  when  he  came  to 
the  story  which  told  how  Cleobis  and  Bito,  as  a  re- 
ward for  their  filial  piety,  lay  down  in  the  temple,  and 
fell  asleep  and  died. 

To  his  pupils,  perhaps,  of  ordinary  lessons,  the  most 
attractive  were  the  weekly  ones  on  modern  history. 
He  had  always  a  difficulty  in  finding  any  work  which 
he  could  use  with  satisfaction  as  a  text-book.  "  Gib- 
bon, which  in  many  respects  would  answer  the  pur- 
pose so  well,  I  dare  not  use."  Accordingly,  the  work, 
whatever  it  might  be,  was  made  the  groundwork  of 
his  own  observations,  and  of  other  reading  from  such 
books  as  the  school  -  library  contained.  Russell's 
" Modern  Europe,"  for  example,  which  he  estimated 
very  low,  though  perhaps  from  his  own  early  acquaint- 
ance with  it  at  Winchester,  with  less  dislike  than 
might  have  been  expected,  served  this  purpose  for 
several  years.  On  a  chapter  of  this  he  would  ingraft, 
or  cause  the  boys  to  ingraft,  additional  information 
from  Hallam,  Guizot,  or  any  other  historian  who  hap- 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          169 

pened  to  treat  of  the  same  period ;  whilst  he  himself, 
with  that  familiar  interest  which  belonged  to  his  favorite 
study  of  history  and  of  geography,  which  he  always 
maintained  could  only  be  taught  in  connection  with 
it,  would  by  his  searching  and  significant  questions 
gather  the  thoughts  of  his  scholars  round  the  peculiar 
characteristics  of  the  age  or  the  country  on  which 
he  wished  to  fix  their  attention.  Thus,  for  example, 
in  the  Seven  Years'  War,  he  would  illustrate  the  gen- 
eral connection  of  military  history  with  geography,  by 
the  simple  instance  of  the  order  of  Hannibal's  succes- 
sive victories ;  and  then,  chalking  roughly  on  a  board 
the  chief  points  in  the  physical  conformation  of  Ger- 
many, apply  the  same  principle  to  the  more  compli- 
cated campaigns  of  Frederick  the  Great.  Or,  again, 
in  a  more  general  examination,  he  would  ask  for  the 
chief  events  which  occurred,  for  instance,  in  the  year 
15  of  two  or  three  successive  centuries,  and,  by  mak- 
ing the  boys  contrast  or  compare  them  together,  bring 
before  their  minds  the  differences  and  resemblances 
in  the  state  of  Europe  in  each  of  the  periods  in 
question. 

Before  entering  on  his  instructions  in  theology, 
which  both  for  himself  and  his  scholars  had  most 
peculiar  interest,  it  is  right  to  notice  the  religious 
character  which  more  or  less  pervaded  the  rest  of  the 
lessons.  When  his  pupils  heard  him  in  preaching 
recommend  them  "  to  note  in  any  common  work  that 
they  read,  such  judgments  of  men  and  things,  and 
such  a  tone  in  speaking  of  them,  as  are  manifestly  at 


170          LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

variance  with  the  spirit  of  Christ "  (Sermons,  vol.  iii. 
p.  1 1 6),  or  when  they  heard  him  ask  "  whether  the 
Christian  ever  feels  more  keenly  awake  to  the  purity 
of  the  spirit  of  the  gospel,  than  when  he  reads  the 
history  of  crimes  related  with  no  true  sense  of  their 
evil  "  (Sermons,  vol.  ii.  p.  223),  instances  would  im- 
mediately occur  to  them  from  his  own  practice,  to 
prove  how  truly  he  felt  what  he  said.  No  direct  in- 
struction could  leave  on  their  minds  a  livelier  image 
of  his  disgust  at  moral  evil  than  the  black  cloud  of 
indignation  which  passed  over  his  face  when  speaking 
of  the  crimes  of  Napoleon  or  of  Caesar,  and  the  dead 
pause  which  followed,  as  if  the  acts  had  just  been  com- 
mitted in  his  very  presence.  No  expression  of  his 
reverence  for  a  high  standard  of  Christian  excellence 
could  have  been  more  striking  than  the  almost  invol- 
untary expressions  of  admiration  which  broke  from 
him  whenever  mention  was  made  of  St.  Louis  of 
France.  No  general  teaching  of  the  providential  gov- 
ernment of  the  world  could  have  left  a  deeper  impres- 
sion than  the  casual  allusions  to  it,  which  occurred  as 
they  came  to  any  of  the  critical  moments  in  the  history 
of  Greece  and  Rome.  No  more  forcible  contrast 
could  have  been  drawn  between  the  value  of  Chris- 
tianity and  of  heathenism  than  the  manner  with  which, 
for  example,  after  reading  in  the  earlier  part  of  the 
lesson  one  of  the  Scripture  descriptions  of  the  Gentile 
world,  "  Now,"  he  said,  as  he  opened  the  "  Satires  " 
of  Horace,  "  we  shall  see  what  it  was." 

Still,  it  was  in  the  Scripture  lessons  that  this  found 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          IJl 

most  scope.  In  the  lower  forms,  it  was  rather  that 
more  prominence  was  given  to  them,  and  that  they 
were  placed  under  better  regulations,  than  that  they 
were  increased  in  amount.  In  the  Sixth  Form,  besides 
the  lectures  on  Sunday,  he  introduced  two  lectures  -on 
the  Old  or  New  Testament  in  the  course  of  the  week ; 
so  that  a  boy  who  remained  there  three  years  would 
often  have  read  through  a  great  part  of  the  New  Tes- 
tament, much  of  the  Old  Testament,  and  especially  of 
the  Psalms  in  the  Septuagint  version,  and  also  com- 
mitted much  of  them  to  memory :  whilst  at  times  he 
would  deliver  lectures  on  the  history  of  the  early 
Church,  or  of  the  English  Reformation.  In  these  les- 
sons on  the  Scriptures,  he  would  insist  much  on  the 
importance  of  familiarity  with  the  very  words  of  the 
sacred  writers,  and  of  the  exact  place  where  passages, 
occurred ;  on  a  thorough  acquaintance  with  the  differ- 
ent parts  of  the  story  contained  in  the  several  Gospels, 
that  they  might  be  referred  to  at  once ;  on  the  knowl- 
edge of  the  times  when,  and  the  persons  to  whom,  the 
Epistles  were  written.  In  translating  the  New  Testa- 
ment, while  he  encouraged  his  pupils  to  take  the  lan- 
guage of  the  authorized  version  as  much  as  possible, 
he  was  very  particular  in  not  allowing  them  to  use 
words  which  fail  to  convey  the  meaning  of  the  original, 
or  which  by  frequent  use  have  lost  all  definite  meaning 
of  their  own,  such  as  "edification,"  or  "the  Gos- 
pel." Whatever  dogmatical  instruction  he  gave,  was 
conveyed  almost  entirely  in  a  practical  or  exegetical 
shape ;  and  it  was  very  rarely  indeed  that  he  made- 


1/2          LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

any  allusion  to  existing  parties  or  controversies  within 
the  Church  of  England.  His  own  peculiar  views, 
which  need  not  be  noticed  in  this  place,  transpired 
more  or  less  throughout ;  but  the  great  proportion  of 
his  interpretations  were  such  as  most  of  his  pupils,  of 
whatever  opinions,  eagerly  collected  and  preserved  for 
their  own  use  in  after-life. 

But  more  important  than  any  details  was  the  union 
of  reverence  and  reality  in  his  whole  manner  of  treat- 
ing the  Scriptures,  which  so  distinguished  these  les- 
sons from  such  as  may  in  themselves  almost  as  little 
deserve  the  name  of  religious  instruction  as  many  les- 
sons commonly  called  secular.  The  same  searching 
questions,  the  same  vividness  which  marked  his  hos- 
torical  lessons,  —  the  same  anxiety  to  bring  all  that  he 
said  home  to  their  own  feelings,  which  made  him,  in 
preparing  them  for  confirmation,  endeavor  to  make 
them  say,  "  Christ  died  for  me,"  instead  of  the  gen- 
eral phrase,  "  Christ  died  for  us,"  —  must  often,  when 
applied  to  the  natural  vagueness  of  boys'  notions  on 
religious  subjects,  have  dispelled  it  forever.  "  He 
appeared  to  me,"  writes  a  pupil,  whose  intercourse 
with  him  never  extended  beyond  these  lessons,  "  to  be 
remarkable  for  his  habit  of  realizing  every  thing  that 
we  are  told  in  Scripture.  You  know  how  frequently 
we  can  ourselves,  and  how  constantly  we  hear  others, 
go  prosing  on  in  a  sort  of  religious  cant  or  slang,  which 
is  as  easy  to  learn  as  any  other  technical  jargon,  with- 
out seeing,  as  it  were,  by  that  faculty  which  all  possess 
of  picturing  to  the  mind,  and  acting  as  if  we  really  saw 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

things  unseen,  belonging  to  another  world.  Now,  he 
seemed  to  have  the  freshest  view  of  our  Lord's  life 
and  death  that  I  ever  knew  a  man  to  possess.  His 
rich  mind  filled  up  the  naked  outline  of  the  gospel 
history :  it  was  to  him  the  most  interesting  fact  that 
has  ever  happened,  —  as  real,  as  exciting  (if  I  may 
use  the  expression),  as  any  recent  event  in  modern  his- 
tory, of  which  the  actual  effects  are  visible."  And  all 
his  comments,  on  whatever  view  of  inspiration  they 
were  given,  were  always  made  in  a  tone  and  manner 
that  left  an  impression,  that,  from  the  book  which  lay 
before  him,  he  was  really  seeking  to  draw  his  rule  of 
life,  and  that,  whilst  he  examined  it  in  earnest  to  find 
what  its  meaning  was,  when  he  had  found  it  he  in- 
tended to  abide  by  it. 

The  effect  of  these  instructions  was  naturally  more 
permanent  (speaking  merely  in  an  intellectual  point 
of  view)  than  the  lessons  themselves  ;  and  it  was  a  fre- 
quent topic  of  censure,  that  his  pupils  were  led  to  take 
up  his  opinions  before  their  minds  were  duly  prepared 
for  them.  What  was  true  of  his  method  and  intention 
in  the  simplest  matters  of  instruction,  was  true  of  it  as 
applied  to  the  highest  matters.  Undoubtedly,  it  was 
his  belief  that  the  minds  of  young  men  ought  to  be 
awakened  to  the  greatness  of  things  around  them; 
and  it  was  his  earnest  endeavor  to  give  them  what  he 
thought  the  best  means  of  attaining  a  firm  hold  upon 
truth.  But  it  was  always  his  wish  that  his  pupils  should 
form  their  opinions  for  themselves,  and  not  take  them 
on  trust  from  him.  To  his  particular  political  princi- 


1/4          LIFE   OF   THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

pies  he  carefully  avoided  allusion ;  and  it  was  rarely 
that  his  subjects  for  school  compositions  touched  on 
any  topics  that  could  have  involved,  even  remotely, 
the  disputed  points  of  party  politics.  In  theological 
matters,  partly  from  the  nature  of  the  case,  partly  from 
the  peculiar  aspect  under  which  for  the  last  six  years 
of  his  life  he  regarded  the  Oxford  school,  he  both  ex- 
pressed his  thoughts  more  openly,  and  was  more  anx- 
ious to  impress  them  upon  his  pupils ;  but  this  was 
almost  entirely  in  the  comparatively  few  sermons 
preached  on  what  could  be  called  controversial  topics. 
In  his  intercourse,  indeed,  with  his  pupils  after  they 
had  left  the  school,  he  naturally  spoke  with  greater 
freedom  on  political  or  theological  subjects,  yet  it  was 
usually  when  invited  by  them ;  and,  though  he  often 
deeply  lamented  their  adoption  of  what  he  held  to  be 
erroneous  views,  he  much  disliked  a  merely  unmeaning 
echo  of  his  own  opinions.  "  It  would  be  a  great  mis- 
take,11 he  said,  "  if  I  were  to  try  to  make  myself  here 
into  a  pope." 

It  was,  however,  an  almost  inevitable  consequence 
of  coming  into  contact  with  his  teaching,  and  with  the 
new  world  which  it  opened,  that  his  pupils  would  often, 
on  their  very  entrance  into  life,  have  acquired  a  famil- 
iarity and  encountered  a  conflict  with  some  of  the 
most  harassing  questions  of  morals  and  religion.  It 
would  also  often  happen,  that  the  increasing  reverence 
which  they  felt  for  him  would  not  only  incline  them 
to  receive  with  implicit  trust  all  that  he  said  in  the  les- 
sons or  in  the  pulpit,  but  also  to  include  in  their  ad- 


LIFE   OF   THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          175 

miration  of  the  man  all  that  they  could  gather  of  his 
general  views,  either  from  report  or  from  his  published 
works ;  whilst  they  would  naturally  look  with  distrust 
on  the  opposite  notions  in  religion  and  politics  brought 
before  them,  as  would  often  be  the  case,  in  close  con- 
nection with  vehement  attacks  on  him,  which  in  most 
cases  they  could  hardly  help  regarding  as  unbounded 
or  unfair.  Still,  the  greater  part  of  his  pupils,  while 
at  school,  were,  after  the  manner  of  English  boys, 
altogether  unaffected  by  his  political  opinions ;  and  of 
those  who  most  revered  him,  none  in  after-life  could 
be  found  who  followed  his  views  implicitly,  even  on 
the  subjects  on  which  they  were  most  disposed  to 
listen  to  him.  But  though  no  particular  school  of 
opinion  grew  up  amongst  them,  the  end  of  his  teach- 
ing would  be  answered  far  more  truly  (and  it  may 
suggest  to  those  who  know  ancient  history,  similar 
results  of  similar  methods  in  the  hands  of  other  emi- 
nent teachers)  if  his  scholars  learned  to  form  an  inde- 
pendent judgment  for  themselves,  and  to  carry  out 
their  opinions  to  their  legitimate  consequences,  —  to 
appreciate  moral  agreement  amidst  much  intellectual 
difference,  not  only  in  each  other  or  in  him,  but  in  the 
world  at  large ;  —  and  to  adopt  many,  if  not  all,  of  his 
principles,  whilst  differing  widely  in  their  application 
of  them  to  existing  persons  and  circumstances. 

III.  If  there  is  any  one  place  at  Rugby  more  than 
another  which  was  especially  the  scene  of  Dr.  Arnold's 
labors,  both  as  a  teacher  and  as  a  master,  it  is  the 
School-chapel.  Even  its  outward  forms,  from  "the 


1/6          LIFE    OF   THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

very  cross  at  the  top  of  the  building,"  on  which  he 
loved  to  dwell  as  a  visible  symbol  of  the  Christian  end 
of  their  education,  to  the  vaults  which  he  caused  to 
be  opened  underneath  for  those  who  died  in  the 
school,  must  always  be  associated  with  his  name.  "  I 
envy  Winchester  its  antiquity,"  he  said,  "and  am  there- 
fore anxious  to  do  all  that  can  be  done  to  give  us 
something  of  a  venerable  outside,  if  we  have  not  the 
nobleness  of  old  associations  to  help  us."  The  five 
painted  windows  in  the  chapel  were  put  up  in  great  part 
at  his  expense,  altogether  at  his  instigation.  The  sub- 
ject of  the  first  of  these,  the  great  east  window,  he  de- 
lighted to  regard  as  "  strikingly  appropriate  to  a  place 
of  education,"  being  "  the  Wise  Men's  Offering ;  "  and 
the  first  time  after  its  erection  that  the  chapter  de- 
scribing the  Adoration  of  the  Magi  was  read  in  the 
church  service,  he  took  occasion  to  preach  upon  it 
one  of  his  most  remarkable  sermons,  that  of  "  Christian 
Professions  —  Offering  Christ  our  Best."  (Sermons, 
vol.  iii.  p.  112.)  And  as  this  is  connected  with  the 
energy  and  vigor  of  his  life,  so  the  subject  of  the  last, 
which  he  chose  himself  a  short  time  before  his  death, 
is  the  confession  of  St.  Thomas,  on  which  he  dwelt 
with  deep  solemnity  in  his  last  hours,  as  in  his  life  he 
had  dwelt  upon  it  as  the  great  consolation  of  doubting 
but  faithful  hearts,  and  as  the  great  attestation  of  what 
was  to  him  the  central  truth  of  Christianity,  our  Lord's 
divinity.  Lastly,  the  monuments  of  those  who  died 
in  the  school  during  his  government,  and  whose  graves 
were  the  first  ever  made  in  the  chapel ;  above  all,  his 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

own,  the  monument  and  grave  of  the  only  head  master 
of  Rugby  who  is  buried  within  its  walls,  —  gave  a  mel- 
ancholy interest  to  the  words  with  which  he  closed  a 
sermon  preached  on  the  Founder's  day,  in  1833,  whilst 
as  yet  the  recently  opened  vaults  had  received  no 
dead  within  them  :  — 

"  This  roof  under  which  we  are  now  assembled,  will  hold, 
it  is  probable,  our  children  and  our  children's  children ;  may 
they  be  enabled  to  think,  as  they  shall  kneel  perhaps  over  the 
bones  of  some  of  us  now  here  assembled,  that  they  are  praying 
where  their  fathers  prayed ;  and  let  them  not,  if  they  mock  in 
their  day  the  means  of  grace  here  offered  to  them,  encourage 
themselves  with  the  thought  that  the  place  had  long  ago  been 
profaned  with  equal  guilt ;  that  they  are  but  infected  with  the 
spirit  of  our  ungodliness." 

But  of  him  especially  it  need  hardly  be  said,  that 
his  chief  interest  in  that  place  lay  in  the  three  hundred 
boys  who,  Sunday  after  Sunday,  were  collected,  morn- 
ing and  afternoon,  within  its  walls.  "  The  veriest 
stranger,"  he  said,  "who  ever  attends  divine  service 
in  this  chapel,  does  well  to  feel  something  more  than 
common  interest  in  the  sight  of  the  congregation  here 
assembled.  But  if  the  sight  so  interests  a  mere  stran- 
ger, what  should  it  be  to  ourselves,  both  to  you  and  to 
me?  "  (Sermons,  vol.  v.  p.  403.)  So  he  spoke  within 
a  month  of  his  death ;  and  to  him  certainly,  the  in- 
terest was  increased  rather  than  lessened  by  its  famil- 
iarity. There  was  the  fixed  expression  of  countenance, 
the  earnest  attention  with  which,  after  the  service  was 
over,  he  sat  in  his  place  looking  at  the  boys  as  they 


1/8          LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

filed  out  one  by  one,  in  the  orderly  and  silent  arrange- 
ment which  succeeded,  in  the  latter  part  of  his  stay, 
to  the  public  calling  over  of  their  names  in  the  chapel. 
There  was  the  complete  image  of  his  union  of  dignity 
and  simplicity,  of  manliness  and  devotion,  as  he  per- 
formed the  chapel  service,  especially  when  at  the 
communion  table  he  would  read,  or  rather  repeat 
almost  by  heart,  the  Gospel  or  Epistle  of  the  day,  with 
the  impressiveness  of  one  who  entered  into  it  equally 
with  his  whole  spirit  and  also  with  his  whole  under- 
standing. There  was  the  visible  animation  with  which, 
by  force  of  long  association,  he  joined  in  the  musical 
parts  of  the  service,  to  which  he  was  by  nature  wholly 
indifferent,  as  in  the  chanting  of  the  Nicene  Creed, 
which  was  adopted  in  accordance  with  his  conviction 
that  creeds  in  public  worship  (Sermons,  vol.  iii.  p.  310) 
ought  to  be  used  as  triumphant  hymns  of  thanksgiv- 
ing ;  or  still  more  in  the  Te  Deum,  which  he  loved 
so  dearly,  and  when  his  whole  countenance  would  be 
lit  up  at  his  favorite  verse,  "  When  Thou  hadst  over- 
come the  sharpness  of  death,  Thou  didst  open  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  to  all  believers." 

From  his  own  interest  in  the  service  naturally  flowed 
his  anxiety  to  impart  it  to  his  scholars ;  urging  them 
in  his  later  sermons  or  in  his  more  private  addresses, 
to  join  in  the  responses,  at  times  with  such  effect,  that 
at  least  from  all  the  older  part  of  the  school  the  re- 
sponses were  very  general.  The  very  course  of  the 
ecclesiastical  year  would  often  be  associated  in  their 
minds  with  their  remembrance  of  the  peculiar  feeling 


LIFE   OF   THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.  1/9 

with  which  they  saw  that  he  regarded  the  greater  fes- 
tivals, and  of  the  almost  invariable  connection  of  his 
sermons  with  the  services  of  the  day.  The  touching 
recollections  of  those  amongst  the  living  or  the  dead, 
whom  he  loved  or  honored,  which  passed  through  his 
mind  as  he  spoke  of  All  Saints'  Day,  and,  whenever  it 
was  possible,  of  its  accompanying  feast,  now  no  longer 
observed,  All  Souls'  Day ;  and  the  solemn  thoughts 
of  the  advance  of  human  life,  and  of  the  progress  of 
the  human  race,  and  of  the  Church,  which  were  awak- 
ened by  the  approach  of  Advent,  —  might  have  es- 
caped a  careless  observer;  but  it  must  have  been 
difficult  for  any  one  not  to  have  been  struck  by  the 
triumphant  exultation  of  his  whole  manner  on  the  re- 
currence of  Easter  Day.  Lent  was  marked  during 
his  last  three  years,  by  the  putting  up  of  boxes  in  the 
chapel  and  the  boarding-houses,  to  receive  money  for 
the  poor,  a  practice  adopted  not  so  much  with  the 
view  of  relieving  any  actual  want,  as  of  affording  the 
boys  an  opportunity  for  self-denial  and  almsgiving. 

He  was  anxious  to  secure  the  administration  of  the 
rite  of  confirmation,  if  possible,  once  every  two  years ; 
when  the  boys  were  prepared  by  himself  and  the  other 
masters  in  their  different  boarding-houses,  who  each 
brought  up  his  own  division  of  pupils  on  the  day  of 
the  ceremony ;  the  interest  of  which  was  further  en- 
hanced, during  his  earlier  years,  by  the  presence  of 
the  late  Bishop  Ryder,  for  whom  he  entertained  a 
great  respect,  and  latterly  by  the  presence  of  his  in- 
timate friend,  Archbishop  Whately.  The  Confirmation 


180          LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

Hymn  of  Dr.  Hinds,  which  was  used  on  these  occa- 
sions, became  so  endeared  to  his  recollections,  that 
when  travelling  abroad,  late  at  night,  he  would  have 
it  repeated  or  sung  to  him.  One  of  the  earliest  public 
addresses  to  the  school  was  that  made  before  the  first 
confirmation,  and  published  in  the  second  volume  of 
his  Sermons ;  and  he  always  had  something  of  the 
kind  (over  and  above  the  bishop's  charge),  either 
before  or  after  the  regular  chapel  service. 

The  Communion  was  celebrated  four  times  a  year. 
At  first  some  of  the  Sixth  Form  boys  alone  were  in 
the  habit  of  attending :  but  he  took  pains  to  invite  to 
it  boys  in  all  parts  of  the  school,  who  had  any  serious 
thoughts ;  so  that  the  number,  out  of  two  hundred  and 
ninety  or  three  hundred  boys,  was  occasionally  a  hun- 
dred, and  never  less  than  seventy.  To  individual 
boys  he  rarely  spoke  on  the  subject,  from  the  fear  of 
its  becoming  a  matter  of  form  or  favor;  but  in  his 
sermons  he  dwelt  upon  it  much,  and  would  afterwards 
speak  with  deep  emotion  of  the  pleasure  and  hope 
which  a  larger  attendance  than  usual  would  give  him. 
It  was  impossible  to  hear  these  exhortations,  or  to  see 
him  administer  it,  without  being  struck  by  the  strong 
and  manifold  interest  which  it  awakened  in  him ;  and 
at  Rugby  it  was,  of  course,  more  than  usually  touch- 
ing to  him  from  its  peculiar  relation  to  the  school. 
When  he  spoke  of  it  in  his  sermons,  it  was  evident, 
that  amongst  all  the  feelings  which  it  excited  in  him- 
self, and  which  he  wished  to  impart  to  others,  none 
was  so  prominent  as  the  sense  that  it  was  a  com- 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          l8l 

munion,  not  only  with  God,  but  with  one  another,  and 
that  the  thoughts  thus  roused  should  act  as  a  direct 
and  especial  counterpoise  to  that  false  communion  and 
false  companionship,  which,  as  binding  one  another, 
not  to  good,  but  to  evil,  he  believed  to  be  the  great 
source  of  mischief  to  the  school  at  large.  And  when 
—  especially  to  the  very  young  boys,  who  sometimes 
partook  of  the  Communion  —  he  bent  himself  down 
with  looks  of  fatherly  tenderness,  and  glistening  eyes 
and  trembling  voice,  in  the  administration  of  the  ele- 
ments, it  was  felt,  perhaps,  more  distinctly  than  at 
any  other  time,  how  great  was  the  sympathy  which  he 
felt  with  the  earliest  advances  to  good  in  every  indi- 
vidual boy. 

That  part  of  the  chapel  service,  however,  which,  at 
least  to  the  world  at  large,  is  most  connected  with 
him,  as  being  the  most  frequent  and  most  personal  of 
his  ministrations,  was  his  preaching.  Sermons  had 
occasionally  been  preached  by  the  head  master  of 
this  and  other  public  schools  to  their  scholars  before 
his  coming  to  Rugby,  but  (in  some  cases  from  the 
peculiar  constitution  or  arrangement  of  the  school)  it 
had  never  before  been  considered  an  essential  part  of 
the  head  master's  office.  The  first  half-year  he  con- 
fined himself  to  delivering  short  addresses,  of  about 
five  minutes'  length,  to  the  boys  of  his  own  house. 
But  from  the  second  half-year  he  began  to  preach 
frequently;  and  from  the  autumn  of  1831,  when  he 
took  the  chaplaincy,  which  had  then  become  vacant, 
he  preached  almost  every  Sunday  of  the  school-year 


1 82          LIFE   OF   THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

to  the  end  of  his  life.  It  may  be  allowable  to  dwell 
for  a  few  moments  on  a  practice  which  has  since  been 
followed,  whenever  it  was  practicable,  in  the  other 
great  public  schools,  and  on  sermons  which,  as  they 
were  the  first  of  their  kind,  will  also  be  probably  long 
looked  upon  as  models  of  their  kind,  in  English 
preaching.  They  were  preached  always  in  the  after- 
noon, and  lasted  seldom  more  than  twenty  minutes, 
sometimes  less,  —  a  new  one  almost  every  time.  "  A 
man  could  hardly,"  he  said,  "  preach  on  the  same 
subject,  without  writing  a  better  sermon  than  he  had 
written  a  few  years  before."  However  much  they 
may  have  occupied  his  previous  thoughts,  they  were 
written  almost  invariably  between  the  morning  and 
afternoon  service ;  and  though  often  under  such  stress 
of  time  that  the  ink  of  the  last  sentence  was  hardly 
dry  when  the  chapel  bell  ceased  to  sound,  they  con- 
tain hardly  a  single  erasure  :  and  the  manuscript  vol- 
umes remain  as  accessible  a  treasure  to  their  possessors 
as  if  they  were  printed. 

When  he  first  began  to  preach,  he  felt  that  his  chief 
duty  was  to  lay  bare,  in  the  plainest  language  that  he 
could  use,  the  sources  of  the  evils  of  schools,  and  to 
contrast  them  with  the  purity  of  the  moral  law  of 
Christianity.  "The  spirit  of  Elijah,"  he  said,  "must 
ever  precede  the  spirit  of  Christ."  But,  as  he  ad- 
vanced, there  is  a  marked  contrast  between  the  severe 
tone  of  his  early  sermons  in  the  second  volume,  when 
all  was  yet  new  to  him,  except  the  knowledge  of  the  evil 
which  he  had  to  combat,  and  the  gentler  tone  which 


LIFE   OF   THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          183 

could  not  but  be  inspired  by  his  greater  familiarity 
both  with  his  work  and  his  pupils — between  the  direct 
attack  on  particular  faults  which  marks  the  course  of 
Lent  Sermons  in  1830,  and  the  wish  to  sink  the  men- 
tion of  particular  faults  in  the  general  principle  of  love 
to  Christ  and  abhorrence  of  sin,  which  marks  the 
summary  of  his  whole  school  experience  in  the  last 
sermon  which  he  ever  preached.  When  he  became 
the  constant  preacher,  he  made  a  point  of  varying  the 
more  directly  practical  addresses  with  sermons  on 
the  interpretation  of  Scripture,  on  the  general  princi- 
ples and  evidences  of  Christianity,  or  on  the  dangers 
of  their  after-life,  applicable  chiefly  to  the  elder  boys. 
Amongst  these  last  should  be  noticed  those  which 
contained  more  or  less  the  expression  of  his  senti- 
ments on  the  principles  to  which  he  conceived  his 
pupils  liable  hereafter  to  be  exposed  at  Oxford,  and 
most  of  which,  as  being  of  a  more  general  interest,  he 
selected  for  publication  in  his  third  and  fourth  volumes. 
That  their  proportion  to  those  that  are  published  af- 
fords no  measure  of  their  proportion  to  those  that  are 
unpublished,  may  be  seen  at  once  by  reference  to  the 
year's  course  in  the  fifth  volume,  which,  out  of  thirty- 
four,  contains  only  four  which  could  possibly  be  in- 
cluded in  this  class.  That  it  was  not  his  own  intention 
to  make  them  either  personal  or  controversial,  appears 
from  an  explanation  to  a  friend  of  a  statement  which, 
in  1839,  appeared  in  the  newspapers,  that  he  "had 
been  preaching  a  course  of  sermons  against  the  Oxford 
errors."  —  "  The  origin  of  the  paragraph  was  simply 


184          LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

this :  that  I  preached  two  in  February,  showing  that 
the  exercise  of  our  own  judgment  was  not  inconsis- 
tent with  the  instruction  and  authority  of  the  Church, 
or  with  individual  modesty  and  humility  [viz.,  the 
thirty-first  and  thirty-second  in  vol.  iv.].  They  were 
not  in  the  least  controversial,  and  neither  mentioned 
nor  alluded  to  the  Oxford  writers.  And  I  have 
preached  only  these  two  which  could  even  be  sup- 
posed to  bear  upon  their  doctrines.  Indeed,  I  should 
not  think  it  right,  except  under  very  different  cir- 
cumstances from  present  ones,  to  occupy  the  boys* 
time  or  thoughts  with  such  controversies."  The  gen- 
eral principles,  accordingly,  which  form  the  ground- 
work of  all  these  sermons,  are  such  as  are  capable  of 
a  far  wider  application  than  to  any  particular  school 
of  English  opinion,  and  often  admit  of  direct  applica- 
tion to  the  moral  condition  of  the  school.  But  the 
quick  ears  of  boys,  no  doubt,  were  always  ready  to  give 
such  sermons  a  more  personal  character  than  he  had 
intended,  or  perhaps  had  even  in  his  mind  at  the  mo- 
ment ;  and  at  times,  when  the  fear  of  these  opinions 
was  more  forcibly  impressed  upon  him,  the  allusion, 
and  even  mention  of  the  writers  in  question,  is  so 
direct,  that  no  one  could  mistake  it. 

But  it  was,  of  course,  in  their  direct  practical  appli- 
cation to  the  boys,  that  the  chief  novelty  and  excel- 
lence of  his  sermons  consisted.  Yet,  though  he  spoke 
with  almost  conversational  plainness  on  the  peculiar 
condition  of  public  schools,  his  language  never  left  an 
impression  of  familiarity,  rarely  of  personal  allusion. 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.  1 8$ 

In  cases  of  notorious  individual  misconduct,  he  gen- 
erally shrunk  from  any  pointed  mention  of  them  ;  and 
on  one  occasion,  when  he  wished  to  address  the  boys 
on  an  instance  of  untruthfulness  which  had  deeply 
grieved  him,  he  had  the  sermon  before  the  regular 
service,  in  order  to  be  alone  in  the  chapel  with  the 
boys,  without  the  presence  even  of  the  other  masters. 
Earnest  and  even  impassioned  as  his  appeals  were, 
himself  at  times  almost  overcome  with  emotion,  there 
was  yet  nothing  in  them  of  excitement.  In  speaking 
of  the  occasional  deaths  in  the  school,  he  would  dwell 
on  the  general  solemnity  of  the  event,  rather  than  on 
any  individual  or  agitating  details ;  and  the  impression 
thus  produced,  instead  of  belonging  to  the  feeling  of 
the  moment,  has  become  part  of  an  habitual  rule  for 
the  whole  conduct  of  life.  Often  he  would  speak  with 
severity  and  bitter  disappointment  of  the  evils  of  the 
place,  yet  there  was  hardly  ever  a  sermon  which  did 
not  contain  some  words  of  encouragement.  "  I  have 
never,"  he  said  in  his  last  sermon,  "  wished  to  speak 
with  exaggeration :  it  seems  to  me  as  unwise  as  it  is 
wrong  to  do  so.  I  think  that  it  is  quite  right  to  ob- 
serve what  is  hopeful  in  us,  as  well  as  what  is  threaten- 
ing; that  general  confessions  of  unmixed  evil  are 
deceiving  and  hardening,  rather  than  arousing;  that 
our  evil  never  looks  so  really  dark  as  when  we  contrast 
it  with  any  thing  which  there  may  be  in  us  of  good." 
(Sermons,  vol.  v.  p.  460.) 

Accordingly,  even  from  the  first,  and  much  more 
in  after- years,  there  was  blended  with  his  sterner  tone 


1 86          LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

a  strain  of  affectionate  entreaty,  —  an  appeal  to  prin- 
ciples, which  could  be  appreciated  only  by  a  few ;  ex- 
hortations to  duties,  such  as  self-denial,  and  visiting 
the  poor,  which  some  at  least  might  practice,  whilst 
none  could  deny  their  obligation.  There  also  ap- 
peared most  evidently, — what  indeed  pervaded  his 
whole  school  life,  —  the  more  than  admiration  with 
which  he  regarded  those  who  struggled  against  the 
stream  of  school  opinion,  and  the  abiding  comfort 
which  they  afforded  him.  In  them  he  saw,  not  merely 
good  boys  and  obedient  scholars,  but  the  companions 
of  every  thing  high  and  excellent,  with  which  his 
strong  historical  imagination  peopled  the  past,  or 
which  his  lively  sense  of  things  unseen  realized  in  the 
invisible  world.  There  were  few  present  in  the  chapel 
who  were  not  at  least  for  the  moment  touched,  when, 
in  one  of  his  earliest  sermons,  he  closed  one  of  these 
earnest  appeals  with  the  lines  from  Milton  which  always 
deeply  moved  him,  —  the  blessing  on  Abdiel. 

But  more  than  either  matter  or  manner  of  his  preach- 
ing, was  the  impression  of  himself.  Even  the  mere 
readers  of  his  sermons  will  derive  from  them  the  his- 
tory of  his  whole  mind,  and  of  his  whole  management 
of  the  school.  But  to  his  hearers  it  was  more  than 
this.  It  was  the  man  himself,  there  more  than  in  any 
other  place,  concentrating  all  his  various  faculties  and 
feelings  on  one  sole  object,  combating  face  to  face  the 
evil  with  which,  directly  or  indirectly,  he  was  elsewhere 
perpetually  struggling.  He  was  not  the  preacher  or  the 
clergyman,  who  had  left  behind  all  his  usual  thoughts 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          l8/ 

and  occupations  as  soon  as  he  had  ascended  the  pulpit- 
He  was  still  the  scholar,  the  historian,  and  theologian, 
basing  all  that  he  said,  not  indeed  ostensibly,  but  con- 
sciously, and  often  visibly,  on  the  deepest  principles 
of  the  past  and  present.  He  was  still  the  instructor 
and  the  schoolmaster,  only  teaching  and  educating  with 
increased  solemnity  and  energy.  He  was  still  the 
simple-hearted  and  earnest  man,  laboring  to  win  others 
to  share  in  his  own  personal  feelings  of  disgust  at  sin, 
and  love  of  goodness,  and  to  trust  to  the  same  faith  in, 
which  he  hoped  to  live  and  die  himself. 

It  is  difficult  to  describe,  without  seeming  to  exag- 
gerate, the  attention  with  which  he  was  heard  by  all 
above  the  very  young  boys.  Years  have  passed  away, 
and  many  of  his  pupils  can  look  back  to  hardly  any- 
greater  interest  than  that  with  which,  for  those  twenty 
minutes,  Sunday  after  Sunday,  they  sat  beneath  that 
pulpit,  with  their  eyes  fixed  upon  him,  and  their  atten- 
tion strained  to  the  utmost  to  catch  every  word  that 
he  uttered.  It  is  true,  that,  even  to  the  best,  there  was 
much,  and  to  the  mass  of  boys,  the  greater  part,  of 
what  he  said,  that  must  have  passed  away  from  them 
as  soon  as  they  had  heard  it,  without  any  correspond- 
ing fruits.  But  they  were  struck,  as  boys  naturally 
would  be,  by  the  originality  of  his  thoughts,  and  what 
always  impressed  them  as  the  beauty  of  his*  language  ; 
and  in  the  substance  of  what  he  said,  much  that  might 
have  seemed  useless,  because  for  the  most  part  im- 
practicable to  boys,  was  not  without  its  effect  in  break- 
ing completely  through  the  corrupt  atmosphere  of 


1 88         LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

school  opinion,  and  exhibiting  before  them  once  every 
week  an  image  of  high  principle  and  feeling,  which 
they  felt  was  not  put  on  for  the  occasion,  but  was  con- 
stantly living  amongst  them.  And  to  all  it  must  have 
been  an  advantage,  that,  for  once  in  their  lives,  they 
had  listened  to  sermons  which  none  of  them  could 
associate  with  the  thought  of  weariness,  formality,  or 
exaggeration.  On  many  there  was  left  an  impression 
to  which,  though  unheeded  at  the  time,  they  recurred 
in  after-life.  Even  the  most  careless  boys  would  some- 
times, during  the  course  of  the  week,  refer  almost  in- 
voluntarily to  the  sermon  of  the  past  Sunday,  as  a 
condemnation  of  what  they  were  doing.  Some,  whilst 
they  wonder  how  it  was  that  so  little  practical  effect 
was  produced  upon  themselves  at  the  time,  yet  retain 
the  recollection  (to  give  the  words  of  one  who  so 
describes  himself) ,  that  "  I  used  to  listen  to  them  from 
first  to  last  with  a  kind  of  awe,  and  over  and  over 
again  could  not  join  my  friends  at  the  chapel  door, 
but  would  walk  home  to  be  alone ;  and  I  remember 
the  same  effects  being  produced  by  them,  more  or  less, 
on  others,  whom  I  should  have  thought  hard  as  stones, 
and  on  whom  I  should  think  Arnold  looked  as  some 
of  the  worst  boys  in  the  school." 

IV.  Although  the  chapel  was  the  only  place  in 
which,  to  the  school  at  large,  he  necessarily  appeared 
in  a  purely  pastoral  and  personal  relation,  yet  this 
relation  extended,  in  his  view,  to  his  whole  management 
of  his  scholars ;  and  he  conceived  it  to  be  his  duty 
and  that  of  the  other  masters  to  throw  themselves,  as 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,  D.D.         189 

much  as  possible,  into  the  way  of  understanding  and 
entering  into  the  feelings  of  the  boys,  not  only  in  their 
official  intercourse,  but  always.  When  he  was  first 
appointed  at  Rugby,  his  friends  had  feared  that  the 
indifference  which  he  felt  towards  characters  and  per- 
sons with  whom  he  had  no  especial  sympathy,  would 
have  interfered  with  his  usefulness  as  head  master. 
But  in  the  case  of  boys,  a  sense  of  duty  supplied  the 
want  of  that  interest  in  character,  as  such,  of  which, 
in  the  case  of  men,  he  possessed  but  little.  Much  ast 
there  was  in  the  peculiar  humor  of  boys  which  his  own 
impatience  of  moral  thoughtlessness,  or  of  treating 
serious  or  important  subjects  with  any  thing  like  ridi- 
cule or  irony,  prevented  him  from  fully  appreciating, 
yet  he  truly  felt,  that  the  natural  youthfulness  and  elas- 
ticity of  his  constitution  gave  him  a  great  advantage  in 
dealing  with  them.  "  When  I  find  that  I  cannot  run 
up  the  library  stairs,"  he  said,  "  I  shall  know  that  it  is 
time  for  me  to  go." 

Thus,  traits  and  actions  of  boys,  which  to  a  stranger 
would  have  told  nothing,  were  to  him  highly  signifi- 
cant. His  quick  and  far-sighted  eye  became  familiar 
with  the  face  and  manner  of  every  boy  in  the  schooL 
"  Do  you  see,"  he  said  to  an  assistant  master  who  had 
recently  come,  "  those  two  boys  walking  together  ?  I 
never  saw  them  together  before ;  you  should  make  it 
an  especial  point  of  observing  the  company  they  keep  : 
—  nothing  so  tells  the  changes  in  a  boy's  character." 
The  insight  which  he  thus  acquired  into  the  general 
characteristics  of  boyhood,  will  not  be  doubted  by  anjr 


190         LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

.reader  of  his  sermons ;  and  his  scholars  used  some- 
times to  be  startled  by  the  knowledge  of  their  own 
notions,  which  his  speeches  to  them  implied.  "Often 
and  often,"  says  one  of  them,  "  have  I  said  to  myself, 
'  If  it  was  one  of  ourselves  who  had  just  spoken,  he 
could  not  more  completely  have  known  and  under- 
stood our  thoughts  and  ideas.' "  And  though  it 
might  happen  that  his  opinion  of  boys  would,  like  his 
opinions  of  men,  be  too  much  influenced  by  his  dis- 
position to  judge  of  the  whole  from  some  one  promi- 
nent feature,  and  though  his  fixed  adherence  to 
.general  rules  might  sometimes  prevent  him  from  mak- 
ing exceptions  where  the  case  required  it,  yet  few 
could  have  been  long  familiar  with  him  without  being 
struck  by  the  distinctness,  the  vividness,  and,  in  spite 
of  great  occasional  mistakes,  the  very  general  truth  and 
accuracy,  of  his  delineation  of  their  individual  charac- 
ters, or  the  readiness  with  which,  whilst  speaking  most 
severely  of  a  mass  of  boys,  he  would  make  allowances, 
and  speak  hopefully  in  any  particular  instance  that 
came  before  him.  Often  before  any  other  eye  had 
-discerned  it,  he  saw  the  germs  of  coming  good  or 
evil,  and  pronounced  confident  decisions,  doubted  at 
the  time,  but  subsequently  proved  to  be  correct ;  so 
that  those  who  lived  with  him,  described  themselves 
as  trusting  to  his  opinions  of  boys  as  to  divinations, 
and  feeling  as  if  by  an  unfavorable  judgment  their  fate 
was  sealed. 

His  relation  to  the  boarders  in  his  own  house  (called 
by  distinction  the  Schoolhouse,  and  containing  between 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          IQI 

sixty  and  seventy  boys)  naturally  afforded  more  scope 
for  communication  than  with  the  rest  of  the  school. 
Besides  the  opportunities  which  he  took  of  showing 
kindness  and  attention  to  them  in  his  own  family,  in 
cases  of  distress  or  sickness,  he  also  made  use  of  the 
preparation  for  confirmation  for  private  conversation 
with  them,  and  during  the  later  years  of  his  life  was 
accustomed  to  devote  an  hour  or  more  in  the  evening 
to  seeing  each  of  them  alone  by  turns,  and  talking  on 
such  topics  as  presented  themselves,  leading  them  if 
possible  to  more  serious  subjects.  The  general  man- 
agement of  the  house,  both  from  his  strong  dislike  to 
intruding  on  the  privacy  even  of  the  youngest,  and  from 
the  usual  principles  of  trust  on  which  he  proceeded, 
he  left  as  much  as  possible  to  the  Praepostors.  Still, 
his  presence  and  manner  when  he  appeared  officially, 
either  on  special  calls,  or  on  the  stated  occasions  of 
calling  over  their  names  twice  a  day,  was  not  without 
its  effect.  One  of  the  scenes  that  most  lives  in  the 
memory  of  his  schoohouse  pupils  is  their  night- muster 
in  the  rudely  lighted  hall  —  his  tall  figure  at  the  head 
of  the  files  of  boys  arranged  on  each  side  of  the  long 
tables,  whilst  the  prayers  were  read  by  one  of  the 
Praepostors,  and  a  portion  of  Scripture  by  himself. 
This  last  was  a  practice  which  he  introduced  soon 
after  his  arrival,  when,  on  one  of  those  occasions,  he 
spoke  strongly  to  the  boys  on  the  necessity  of  each 
reading  some  part  of  the  Bible  every  day,  and  then 
added,  that,  as  he  feared  that  many  would  not  make 
the  rule  for  themselves,  he  should  for  the  future  always 


192         LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

read  a  passage  every  evening  at  this  time.  He  usu- 
ally brought  in  his  Greek  Testament,  and  read  about 
half  a  chapter  in  English,  most  frequently  from  the 
close  of  St.  John's  Gospel ;  when  from  the  Old  Testa- 
ment, especially  his  favorite  Psalms,  the  nineteenth, 
for  example,  and  the  one  hundred  and  seventh,  and 
the  others  relating  to  the  beauty  of  the  natural  world. 
He  never  made  any  comment,  but  his  manner  of 
reading  impressed  the  boys  considerably ;  and  it  was 
observed  by  some  of  them,  shortly  after  the  practice 
was  commenced,  that  they  had  never  understood  the 
Psalms  before.  On  Sunday  nights  he  read  a  prayer  of 
his  own,  and,  before  he  began  to  preach  regularly  in 
the  chapel,  delivered  the  short  addresses  which  have 
been  before  mentioned,  and  which  he  resumed,  in  ad- 
dition to  his  other  work  on  Sundays,  during  the  last 
year  and  a  half  of  his  life. 

With  the  boys  in  the  Sixth  Form  his  private  inter- 
course was  comparatively  frequent,  whether  in  the  les- 
sons, or  in  questions  of  school  government,  or  in  the 
more  familiar  relation  in  which  they  were  brought  to 
him  in  their  calls  before  and  after  the  holidays,  their 
dinners  with  him  during  the  half-year,  and  the  visits 
which  one  or  more  used  by  turns  to  pay  to  him  in 
Westmoreland  during  part  of  the  vacation.  But  with 
the  greater  part  of  the  school,  it  was  almost  entirely 
confined  to  such  opportunities  as  arose  out  of  the  regu- 
lar course  of  school  discipline  or  instruction,  and  the 
occasional  invitations  to  his  house  of  such  amongst 
the  younger  boys  as  he  could  find  any  reason  or 
excuse  for  asking. 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,  D.D.          193 

It  would  thus  often  happen  in  so  large  a  number, 
that  a  boy  would  leave  Rugby  without  any  personal 
communication  with  him  at  all ;  and,  even  in  the 
higher  part  of  the  school,  those  who  most  respected 
him  would  sometimes  complain,  even  with  bitterness, 
that  he  did  not  give  them  greater  opportunities  of 
asking  his  advice,  or  himself  offer  more  frequently  to 
direct  their  studies,  and  guide  their  inquiries.  Latterly, 
indeed,  he  communicated  with  them  more  frequently, 
and  expressed  himself  more  freely  both  in  public  and 
private  on  the  highest  subjects.  But  he  was  always  re- 
strained from  speaking  much  or  often,  both  from  the 
extreme  difficulty  which  he  felt  in  saying  any  thing 
without  a  real  occasion  for  it,  and  also  from  his  prin- 
ciple of  leaving  as  much  as  possible  to  be  filled  up  by 
the  judgment  of  the  boys  themselves,  and  from  his 
deep  conviction,  that,  in  the  most  important  matters  of 
all,  the  movement  must  come  not  from  without,  but 
from  within.  And  it  certainly  was  the  case,  that 
whenever  he  did  make  exceptions  to  this  rule,  and 
spoke  rather  as  their  friend  than  their  master,  the 
simplicity  of  his  words,  the  rareness  of  their  occur- 
rence, and  the  stern  background  of  his  ordinary  ad- 
ministration, gave  a  double  force  to  all  that  was  said. 

Such,  for  example,  would  be  the  effect  of  his  speak- 
ing of  swearing  to  a  boy,  not  so  much  in  anger  or  re- 
proof, as  assuring  him  how  every  year  he  would  learn 
to  see  more  and  more  how  foolish  and  disgusting  such 
language  was ;  or,  again,  the  distinction  he  would  point 
out  to  them  between  mere  amusement  and  such  as 


194         LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D,D. 

encroached  on  the  next  day's  duties,  when,  as  he  said, 
"  it  immediately  becomes  what  St.  Paul  calls  revelling." 
Such  also  would  be  the  impression  of  his  severe  re- 
bukes for  individual  faults,  showing  by  their  very  short- 
ness and  abruptness  his  loathing  and  abhorrence  of 
evil.  "  Nowhere,"  he  said,  in  speaking  to  some  boys 
on  bad  behavior  during  prayers  at  their  boarding- 
house,  — "  nowhere  is  Satan's  work  more  evidently 
manifest  than  in  turning  holy  things  to  ridicule." 
Such  also  were  the  cases  in  which,  more  than  once, 
boys,  who  were  tormented  while  at  school  with  scep- 
tical doubts,  took  courage  at  last  to  unfold  them  to 
him,  and  were  almost  startled  to  find  the  ready  sym- 
pathy with  which,  instead  of  denouncing  them  as  pro- 
fane, he  entered  into  their  difficulties,  and  applied  his 
whole  mind  to  assuage  them.  So,  again,  when  dealing 
with  the  worst  class  of  boys,  in  whom  he  saw  indica- 
tions of  improvement,  he  would  grant  indulgences 
which  on  ordinary  occasions  he  would  have  denied, 
with  a  view  of  encouraging  them  by  signs  of  his  confi- 
dence in  them ;  and  at  times,  on  discovering  cases  of 
vice,  he  would,  instead  of  treating  them  with  contempt 
or  extreme  severity,  tenderly  allow  the  force  of  the 
temptation,  and  urge  it  upon  them  as  a  proof  brought 
home  to  their  own  minds,  how  surely  they  must  look 
for  help  out  of  themselves. 

In  his  preparation  of  boys  for  confirmation,  he  fol- 
lowed the  same  principle.  The  printed  questions 
which  he  issued  for  them  were  intended  rather  as 
guides  to  their  thoughts  than  as  necessary  to  be  for- 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          195 

mally  answered ;  and  his  own  interviews  with  them 
were  very  brief.  But  the  few  words  which  he  then 
spoke  —  the  simple  repetition,  for  example,  of  the 
promise  made  to  prayer,  with  his  earnest  assurance, 
that,  if  that  was  not  true,  nothing  was  true  :  if  any 
thing  in  the  Bible  could  be  relied  upon,  it  was  that  - — 
have  become  the  turning-point  of  a  boy's  character, 
and  graven  on  his  memory  as  a  law  for  life. 

But,  independently  of  particular  occasions  of  inter- 
course, there  was  a  deep  undercurrent  of  sympathy 
which  extended  to  almost  all,  and  which  from  time  to 
time  broke  through  the  reserve  of  his  outward  man- 
ner. In  cases  where  it  might  have  been  thought  that 
tenderness  would  have  been  extinguished  by  indigna- 
tion, he  was  sometimes  so  deeply  affected  in  pronoun- 
cing sentence  of  punishment  on  offenders,  as  to  be 
hardly  able  to  speak.  "  I  felt,"  he  said  once  of  some 
great  fault  of  which  he  had  heard  in  one  of  the  Sixth 
Form,  and  his  eyes  filled  with  tears  as  he  spoke,  "  as 
if  it  had  been  one  of  my  own  children ;  and,  till  I  had 
ascertained  that  it  was  really  true,  I  mentioned  it  to  no 
one,  not  even  to  any  of  the  masters."  And  this  feel- 
ing began  before  he  could  have  had  any  personal 
knowledge  of  them.  "  If  he  should  turn  out  ill,"  he 
said  of  a  young  boy  of  promise  to  one  of  the  assistant 
masters,  and  his  voice  trembled  with  emotion  as  he 
spoke,  "  I  think  it  would  break  my  heart."  Nor  were 
any  thoughts  so  bitter  to  him  as  those  suggested  by 
the  innocent  faces  of  little  boys  as  they  first  came  from 
home,  —  nor  any  expressions  of  his  moral  indignation 


196         LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

deeper  than  when  he  heard  of  their  being  tormented 
or  tempted  into  evil  by  their  companions.  "  It  is  a 
most  touching  thing  to  me,",  he  said  once  in  the  hear- 
ing of  one  of  his  former  pupils,  on  the  mention  of 
some  new-comers,  "  to  receive  a  new  fellow  from  his 
father,  when  I  think  what  an  influence  there  is  in  this 
place  for  evil,  as  well  as  for  good.  I  do  not  know  any 
thing  which  affects  me  more."  His  pupil,  who  had, 
on  his  own  first  coming,  been  impressed  chiefly  by  the 
severity  of  his  manner,  expressed  some  surprise,  add- 
ing that  he  should  have  expected  this  to  wear  away 
with  the  succession  of  fresh  arrivals.  "  No,"  he  said  : 
"  if  ever  I  could  receive  a  new  boy  from  his  father 
without  emotion,  I  should  think  it  was  high  time  to  be 
off." 

What  he  felt  thus  on  ordinary  occasions,  was  height- 
ened, of  course,  when  any  thing  brought  strongly  before 
him  any  evil  in  the  school.  "  If  this  goes  on,"  he 
wrote  to  a  former  pupil  on  some  such  occasion,  "  it 
will  end  either  my  life  at  Rugby,  or  my  life  altogether." 
"  How  can  I  go  on,"  he  said,  "with  my  Roman  His- 
tory? There  all  is  noble  and  high-minded,  and  here 
I  find  nothing  but  the  reverse."  The  following  ex- 
tract from  a  letter  to  his  friend,  Sir  T.  Pasley,  describes 
this  feeling. 

"  Since  I  began  this  letter,  I  have  had  some  of  the  troubles 
of  school-keeping,  and  one  of  those  specimens  of  the  evil  of 
boy-nature,  which  makes  me  always  unwilling  to  undergo  the 
responsibility  of  advising  any  man  to  send  his  son  to  a  public 
school.  There  has  been  a  system  of  persecution  carried  on  by 


LIFE   OF   THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          1 97 

the  bad  against  the  good,  and  then,  when  complaint  was  made 
to  me,  there  came  fresh  persecution  on  that  very  account ;  and 
divers  instances  of  boys  joining  in  it  out  of  pure  cowardice,  both 
physical  and  moral,  when  if  left  to  themselves  they  would  have 
rather  shunned  it.  And  the  exceedingly  small  -number  of  boys 
who  can  be  relied  on  for  active  and  steady  good  on  these  occa- 
sions, and  the  way  in  which  the  decent  and  respectable  of  ordi- 
nary life  (Carlyle's  '  Shams ')  are  sure  on  these  occasions  to 
swim  with  the  stream,  and  take  part  with  the  evil,  makes  me 
strongly  feel  exemplified  what  the  Scripture  says  about  the 
strait  gate  and  the  wide  one,  —  a  view  of  human  nature,  which, 
when  looking  on  human  life  in  its  full  dress  of  decencies  and 
civilizations,  we  are  apt,  I  imagine,  to  find  it  hard  to  realize. 
But  here,  in  the  nakedness  of  boy-nature,  one  is  quite  able  to 
understand  how  there  could  not  be  found  so  many  as  even  ten 
righteous  in  a  whole  city.  And  how  to  meet  this  evil  I  really 
do  not  know ;  but  to  find  it  thus  rife  after  I  have  been  [so 
many]  years  fighting  against  it,  is  so  sickening,  that  it  is  very 
hard  not  to  throw  up  the  cards  in  despair,  and  upset  the  table. 
But  then  the  stars  of  nobleness,  which  I  see  amidst  the  dark- 
ness, in  the  case  of  the  few  good,  are  so  cheering,  that  one  is 
inclined  to  stick  to  the  ship  again,  and  have  another  good  try 
at  getting  her  about." 

V.  As,  on  the  one  hand,  his  interest  and  sympathy 
with  the  boys  far  exceeded  any  direct  manifestation  of 
it  towards  them,  so,  on  the  other  hand,  the  impression 
which  he  produced  upon  them  was  derived,  not  so 
much  from  any  immediate  intercourse  or  conversation 
with  him,  as  from  the  general  influence  of  his  whole 
character,  displayed  consistently  whenever  he  appeared 
before  them.  This  influence,  with  its  consequent 
effects,  was  gradually  on  the  increase  during  the  whole 
of  his  stay.  From  the  earliest  period,  indeed,  the 


1 98          LIFE   OF   THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

boys  were  conscious  of  something  unlike  what  they 
had  been  taught  to  imagine  of  a  schoolmaster ;  and  by 
many,  a  lasting  regard  was  contracted  for  him  :  but  it 
was  not  till  he  had  been  in  his  post  some  years,  that 
there  arose  that  close  bond  of  union  which  character- 
ized his  relation  to  his  elder  pupils  ;  and  it  was,  again, 
not  till  later  still  that  this  feeling  extended  itself,  more 
or  less,  through  the  mass  of  the  school,  so  that,  in  the 
higher  forms  at  least,  it  became  the  fashion  (so  to 
speak)  to  think  and  talk  of  him  with  pride  and  affec- 
tion. 

The  liveliness  and  simplicity  of  his  whole  behavior 
must  always  have  divested  his  earnestness  of  any 
appearance  of  moroseness  and  affectation.  "  He  calls 
us  fellows"  was  the  astonished  expression  of  the  boys 
when,  soon  after  his  first  coming,  they  heard  him  speak 
of  them  by  the  familiar  name  in  use  amongst  them- 
selves ;  and  in  his  later  years,  they  observed  with 
pleasure  the  unaffected  interest  with  which,  in  the  long 
autumn  afternoons,  he  would  often  stand  in  the  school- 
field  and  watch  the  issue  of  their  favorite  games  of 
football.  But  his  ascendency  was,  generally  speaking, 
not  gained,  at  least  in  the  first  instance,  by  the  effect 
of  his  outward  manner.  There  was  a  shortness,  at 
times,  something  of  an  awkwardness,  in  his  address, 
occasioned  partly  by  his  natural  shyness,  partly  by  his 
dislike  of  wasting  words  on  trivial  occasions,  which  to 
boys  must  have  been  often  repulsive  rather  than  con- 
ciliating; something  also  of  extreme  severity  in  his 
voice  and  countenance,  beyond  what  he  was  himself 


LIFE    OF   THOMAS  ARNOLD,    D.D.          199 

at  all  aware  of.  With  the  very  little  boys,  indeed,  his 
manner  partook  of  that  playful  kindness  and  tender- 
ness which  always  marked  his  intercourse  with  chil- 
dren :  in  examining  them  in  the  lower  forms,  he  would 
sometimes  take  them  on  his  knee,  and  go  through 
picture-books  of  the  Bible  or  of  English  history,  cover- 
ing the  text  of  the  narrative  with  his  hand,  and  making 
them  explain  to  him  the  subject  of  the  several  prints. 
But  in  those  above  this  early  age,  and  yet  below  the 
rank  in  the  school  which  brought  them  into  closer 
contact  with  him,  the  sternness  of  his  character  was 
the  first  thing  that  impressed  them.  In  many,  no 
doubt,  this  feeling  was  one  of  mere  dread,  which,  if 
not  subsequently  removed  or  modified,  only  served  to 
repel  those  who  felt  it  to  a  greater  distance  from  him. 
But  in  many  also,  this  was,  even  in  the  earlier  period 
of  their  stay,  mingled  with  an  involuntary  and,  perhaps, 
an  unconscious,  respect  inspired  by  the  sense  of  the 
manliness  and  straightforwardness  of  his  dealings,  and 
still  more,  by  the  sense  of  the  general  force  of  his 
moral  character ;  by  the  belief  (to  use  the  words  of 
different  pupils)  in  "  his  extraordinary  knack,  for  I  can 
call  it  nothing  else,  of  showing  that  his  object  in  punish- 
ing or  reproving,  was  not  his  own  good  or  pleasure,  but 
that  of  the  boy,"  —  "  in  a  truthfulness  —  an  ciXt/cptVcta 
—  a  sort  of  moral  transparency;  "  in  the  fixedness  of 
his  purpose,  and  "  the  searchingness  of  his  practical 
insight  into  boys,"  by  a  consciousness,  almost  amount- 
ing to  solemnity,  that,  "  when  his  eye  was  upon  you,  he 
looked  into  your  inmost  heart ;  "  that  there  was  some- 


200         LIFE   OF   THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

thing  in  his  very  tone  and  outward  aspect,  before  which 
any  thing  low  or  false  or  cruel  instinctively  quailed  and 
cowered. 

And  the  defect  of  occasional  over-hastiness  and 
vehemence  of  expression,  which  during  the  earlier 
period  of  his  stay  at  times  involved  him  in  some  trou- 
ble, did  not  materially  interfere  with  their  general 
notion  of  his  character.  However  mistaken  it  might 
be  in  the  individual  case,  it  was  evident  to  those  who 
took  any  thought  about  it,  that  that  ashy  paleness  and 
that  awful  frown  were  almost  always  the  expression, 
not  of  personal  resentment,  but  of  deep,  ineffable  scorn 
and  indignation  at  the  sight  of  vice  and  sin ;  and  it 
was  not  without  its  effect  to  observe,  that  it  was  a  fault 
against  which  he  himself  was  constantly  on  the  watch, 
and  which,  in  fact,  was  in  later  years  so  nearly  sub- 
dued, that  most  of  those  who  had  only  known  him 
during  that  time  can  recall  no  instance  of  it  during 
their  stay. 

But  as  boys  advanced  in  the  school,  out  of  this  feel- 
ing of  fear  "grew  up  a  deep  admiration,  partaking 
largely  of  the  nature  of  awe ;  and  this  softened  into  a 
sort  of  loyalty,  which  remained  even  in  the  closer  and 
more  affectionate  sympathy  of  later  years."  "  I  am 
sure,"  writes  a  pupil  who  had  no  personal  communi- 
cations with  him  whilst  at  school,  and  but  little  after- 
wards, and  who  never  was  in  the  Sixth  Form,  "  that  I 
do  not  exaggerate  my  feelings  when  I  say,  that  I  felt 
a  love  and  reverence  for  him  as  one  of  quite  awful 
greatness  and  goodness,  for  whom  I  well  remember 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.         2OI 

that  I  used  to  think  I  would  gladly  lay  down  my  life  ;  " 
adding,  with  reference  to  the  thoughtless  companions 
with  whom  he  had  associated,  "  I  used  to  believe  that 
I,  too,  had  a  work  to  do  for  him  in  the  school ;  and 
I  did  for  his  sake  labor  to  raise  the  tone  of  the  set  I 
lived  in,  particularly  as  regarded  himself."  It  was  in 
boys  immediately  below  the  highest  form  that  this  new 
feeling  would  usually  rise  for  the  first  time,  and  awaken 
a  strong  wish  to  know  more  of  him.  Then,  as  they 
came  into  personal  contact  with  him,  their  general 
sense  of  his  ability  became  fixed,  in  the  proud  belief 
that  they  were  scholars  of  a  man  who  would  be  not 
less  remarkable  to  the  world  than  he  was  to  them- 
selves ;  and  their  increasing  consciousness  of  his  own 
sincerity  of  purpose,  and  of  the  interest  which  he  took 
in  them,  often  awakened,  even  in  the  careless  and  in- 
different, an  outward  respect  for  goodness,  and  an 
animation  in  their  work  before  unknown  to  them. 
And  when  they  left  school,  they  felt  that  they  had 
been  in  an  atmosphere  unlike  that  of  the  world  about 
them.  Some  of  those  who  lamented  not  having  made 
more  use  of  his  teaching  whilst  with  him,  felt  that  "  a 
better  thought  than  ordinary  often  reminded  them 
how  he  first  led  to  it ;  and  in  matters  of  literature 
almost  invariably  found,  that,  when  any  idea  of  seem- 
ing originality  occurred  to  them,  that  its  germ  was  first 
suggested  by  some  remark  of  Arnold ;  "  that  "  still, 
to  this  day,  in  reading  the  Scriptures,  or  other  things, 
they  could  constantly  trace  back  a  line  of  thought 
that  came  originally  from  him,  as  from  a  great  parent 


202         LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

mind."  And  when  they  heard  of  his  death,  they 
became  conscious  —  often  for  the  first  time  —  of  the 
large  place  which  he  had  occupied  in  their  thoughts, 
if  not  in  their  affections. 

Such  was  the  case  with  almost  all  who  were  in  the 
Sixth  Form  with  him  during  the  last  ten  years  of  his 
life ;  but  with  some  who,  from  peculiar  circumstances 
of  greater  sympathy  with  him,  came  into  more  perma- 
nent communication  with  him,  there  was  a  yet  stronger 
bond  of  union.  His  interest  in  his  elder  pupils,  unlike 
a  mere  professional  interest,  seemed  to  increase  after 
they  had  left  the  school.  No  sermons  were  so  full  of 
feeling  and  instruction  as  those  which  he  preached  on 
the  eve  of  their  departure  for  the  universities.  It  was 
now  that  the  intercourse,  which  at  school  had  been 
so  broken,  and,  as  it  were,  stolen  by  snatches,  was  at 
last  enjoyed  between  them  to  its  full  extent.  It  was 
sometimes  in  the  few  parting  words  —  the  earnest 
blessing  which  he  then  bestowed  upon  them  —  that 
they  became  for  the  first  time  conscious  of  his  real 
care  and  love  for  them.  The  same  anxiety  for  their 
good  which  he  had  felt  in  their  passage  through 
school,  he  now  showed,  without  the  necessity  of  offi- 
cial caution  and  reserve,  in  their  passage  through  life. 
To  any  pupil  who  ever  showed  any  desire  to  continue 
his  connection  with  him,  his  house  was  always  open, 
and  his  advice  and  sympathy  ready.  No  half-year, 
after  the  four  first  years  of  his  stay  at  Rugby,  passed 
without  a  visit  from  his  former  scholars :  some  of 
them  would  come  three  or  four  times  a  year ;  some 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.         2OJ 

would  stay  in  his  house  for  weeks.  He  would  offer  to 
prepare  them  for  their  university  examinations  by  pre- 
vious examinations  of  his  own  :  he  never  shrunk  from 
adding  any  of  them  to  his  already  numerous  corre- 
spondents, encouraging  them  to  write  to  him  in  all 
perplexities.  To  any  who  were  in  narrow  circum- 
stances,— not  in  one  case,  but  in  several,  —  he  would 
at  once  offer  assistance ;  sometimes  making  them  large 
presents  of  books  on  their  entrance  at  the  university  • 
sometimes  tendering  them  large  pecuniary  aid,  and 
urging  to  them  that  his  power  of  doing  so  was  exactly 
one  of  those  advantages  of  his  position  which  he  was 
most  bound  to  use.  In  writing  for  the  world  at  large, 
they  were  in  his  thoughts,  "in  whose  welfare/7  he 
said,  "  I  naturally  have  the  deepest  interest,  and  in 
whom  old  impressions  may  be  supposed  to  have  still 
so  much  force,  that  I  may  claim  from  them  at  least 
a  patient  hearing.'1  (Sermons,  vol.  iv.,  pref.  p.  Iv.) 
And  when  annoyed  by  distractions  from  within  the 
school,  or  opposition  from  without,  he  turned,  he  used 
to  say,  to  their  visits  as  "  to  one  of  the  freshest  springs 
of  his  life." 

They,  on  their  side,  now  learned  to  admire  those 
parts  of  his  character  which,  whilst  at  school,  they 
had  either  not  known  or  only  imperfectly  understood. 
Pupils  with  characters  most  different  from  each  other's, 
and  from  his  own,  —  often  with  opinions  diverging 
more  and  more  widely  from  his  as  they  advanced  in 
life,  —  looked  upon  him  with  a  love  and  reverence 
which  made  his  gratification  one  of  the  brightest  re- 


2O4         LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

wards  of  their  academical  studies ;  his  good  or  evil 
fame  a  constant  source  of  interest  and  anxiety  to 
them;  his  approbation  and  censure  amongst  their 
most  practical  motives  of  action ;  his  example  one  of 
their  most  habitual  rules  of  life.  To  him  they  turned 
for  advice  in  every  emergency  of  life,  not  so  much  for 
the  sake  of  the  advice  itself,  as  because  they  felt  that 
no  important  step  ought  to  be  taken  without  consult- 
ing him.  An  additional  zest  was  imparted  to  whatever 
work  they  were  engaged  in,  by  a  consciousness  of  the 
interest  which  he  felt  in  the  progress  of  their  under- 
taking, and  the  importance  which  he  attached  to  its 
result.  They  now  felt  the  privilege  of  being  able  to 
ask  him  questions  on  the  many  points  which  his  school- 
teaching  had  suggested  without  fully  developing ;  but 
yet  more,  perhaps,  they  prized  the  sense  of  his  sym- 
pathy and  familiar  kindness,  which  made  them  feel 
that  they  were  not  only  his  pupils,  but  his  companions. 
That  youthfulness  of  temperament  which  has  been 
before  noticed  in  his  relation  to  boys,  was  still  more 
important  in  his  relation  to  young  men.  All  the  new 
influences  which  so  strongly  divide  the  students  of  the 
nineteenth  century  from  those  of  the  last,  had  hardly 
less  interest  for  himself  than  for  them ;  and,  after  the 
dulness  or  vexation  of  business  or  of  controversy,  a 
visit  of  a  few  days  to  Rugby  would  remind  them  (to 
apply  a  favorite  image  of  his  own)  "how  refreshing 
it  is  in  the  depth  of  winter,  when  the  ground  is  cov- 
ered with  snow,  and  all  is  dead  and  lifeless,  to  walk 
by  the  seashore  and  enjoy  the  eternal  freshness  and 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,  D.D.         2OJ 

liveliness  of  ocean."  His  very  presence  seemed  to- 
create  a  new  spring  of  health  and  vigor  within  them, 
and  to  give  to  life  an  interest  and  an  elevation  which 
remained  with  them  long  after  they  had  left  him  again, 
and  dwelt  so  habitually  in  their  thoughts,  as  a  living 
image,  that,  when  death  had  taken  him  away,  the  bond 
appeared  to  be  still  unbroken,  and  the  sense  of  separa- 
tion almost  lost  in  the  still  deeper  sense  of  a  life  and 
an  union  indestructible. 


What  were  the  permanent  effects  of  this  system  and 
influence,  is  a  question  which  cannot  yet  admit  of  an 
adequate  answer,  least  of  all  from  his  pupils.  The 
mass  of  boys  are,  doubtless,  like  the  mass  of  men,  in- 
capable of  receiving  a  deep  and  lasting  impression 
from  any  individual  character,  however  remarkable ; 
and  it  must  also  be  borne  in  mind,  that  hardly  any  of 
his  scholars  were  called  by  rank  or  station  to  take  a 
leading  place  in  English  society,  where  the  effect  of 
his  teaching  and  character,  whatever  it  might  be  in 
itself,  would  have  been  far  more  conspicuous  to  the 
world  at  large. 

He  himself,  though  never  concealing  from  himself 
the  importance  of  his  work,  would  constantly  dwell 
on  the  scantiness  of  its  results.  "  I  came  to  Rugby," 
he  said,  "  full  of  plans  for  school  reform ;  but  I  soon 
found  that  the  reform  of  a  public  school  was  a  much 
more  difficult  thing  than  I  had  imagined."  And,  again, 
"  I  dread  to  hear  this  called  a  religious  school.  I 


2O6         LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

know  how  much  there  is  to  be  done  before  it  can 
really  be  called  so."  "With  regard  to  one's  work/' 
he  said, "  be  it  school  or  parish,  I  suppose  the  desir- 
able feeling  to  entertain  is,  always  to  expect  to  succeed, 
and  never  think  that  you  have  succeeded."  He  hardly 
ever  seems  to  have  indulged  in  any  sense  of  superior- 
ity to  the  other  public  schools.  Eton,  for  example, 
he  would  often  defend  against  the  attacks  to  which  it 
was  exposed,  and  the  invidious  comparisons  which 
some  persons  would  draw  between  that  school  and 
Rugby.  What  were  his  feelings  towards  the  improve- 
ments taking  place  there  and  elsewhere,  after  his  com- 
ing to  Rugby,  have  been  mentioned  already :  even 
between  the  old  system  and  his  own,  he  rarely  drew 
a  strong  distinction,  conscious  though  he  must  have 
been  of  the  totally  new  elements  which  he  was  intro- 
ducing. The  earliest  letters  from  Rugby  express  an 
unfeigned  pleasure  in  what  he  found  existing;  and 
there  is  no  one  disparaging  mention  of  his  predecessor 
in  all  the  correspondence,  published  or  unpublished, 
that  has  been  collected  for  this  work. 

If,  however,  the  prediction  of  Dr.  Hawkins  at  his 
election  has  been  in  any  way  fulfilled,  the  result  of 
his  work  need  not  depend  on  the  rank,  however  emi- 
nent, to  which  he  raised  Rugby  School,  or  the  influ- 
ence, however  powerful,  which  he  exercised  over  his 
Rugby  scholars.  And  if  there  be  any  truth  in  the  fol- 
lowing letter  from  Dr.  Moberly,  to  whose  testimony 
additional  weight  is  given,  as  well  by  his  very  wide 
difference  of  political  and  ecclesiastical  opinion,  as  by 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.         2O/ 

his  personal  experience,  first  as  a  scholar  at  Winches- 
ter, and  an  undergraduate  at  Oxford,  then  as  the 
tutor  of  the  most  flourishing  college  in  that  university, 
and  lastly,  in  his  present  position  as  head  master  of 
Winchester,  it  will  be  felt,  that  not  so  much  amongst 
his  own  pupils,  nor  in  the  scene  of  his  actual  labors, 
as  in  every  public  school  throughout  England,  is  to 
be  sought  the  chief  and  enduring  monument  of  Dr. 
Arnold's  head-mastership  at  Rugby. 


EXTRACT  FROM  A  LETTER  OF  DR.  MOBERLY,  HEAD 
MASTER  OF  WINCHESTER. 

Possibly  [he  writes,  after  describing  his  own  recollections 
as  a  school-boy]  other  schools  may  have  been  less  deep  in 
these  delinquencies  than  Winchester :  I  believe  that  in  many 
respects  they  were.  But  I  did  not  find,  on  going  to  the  univer- 
sity, that  I  was  under  disadvantages  as  compared  with  those 
who  came  from  other  places :  on  the  contrary,  the  tone  of 
young  men  at  the  university,  whether  they  came  from  Win- 
chester, Eton,  Rugby,  Harrow,  or  wherever  else,  was  univer- 
sally irreligious.  A  religious  undergraduate  was  very  rare, 
very  much  laughed  at  when  he  appeared ;  and,  I  think  I  may 
confidently  say,  hardly  to  be  found  among  public-school  men ; 
or,  if  this  be  too  strongly  said,  hardly  to  be  found,  except  in 
cases  where  private  and  domestic  training,  or  good  disposi- 
tions, had  prevailed  over  the  school  habits  and  tendencies.  A 
most  singular  and  striking  change  has  come  upon  our  public 
schools,  —  a  change  too  great  for  any  person  to  appreciate  ade- 
quately, who  has  not  known  them  in  both  these  times.  This 
change  is  undoubtedly  part  of  a  general  improvement  of  our 
generation  in  respect  of  piety  and  reverence;  but  I  am  sure 
that  to  Dr.  Arnold's  personal,  earnest  simplicity  of  purpose, 
strength  of  character,  power  of  influence  and  piety,  which  none 


208          LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

who  ever  came  near  him  could  mistake  or  question,  the  carry- 
ing of  this  improvement  into  our  schools  is  mainly  attributable. 
He  was  the  first.  It  soon  began  to  be  matter  of  observation 
to  us  in  the  university,  that  his  pupils  brought  quite  a  different 
character  with  them  to  Oxford  than  that  which  we  knew  else- 
where. I  do  not  speak  of  opinions:  but  his  pupils  were 
thoughtful,  manly-minded,  conscious  of  duty  and  obligation, 
when  they  first  came  to  college;  we  regretted,  indeed,  that 
they  were  often  deeply  imbued  with  principles  which  we  dis- 
approved; but  we  cordially  acknowledged  the  immense  im- 
provement in  their  characters  in  respect  of  morality  and 
personal  piety,  and  looked  on  Dr.  Arnold  as  exercising  an 
influence  for  good  which  (for  how  many  years  I  know  not) 
had  been  absolutely  unknown  to  oui  public  schools. 

I  knew,  personally,  but  little  of  him.  You  remember  the 
first  occasion  on  which  I  ever  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  him ; 
but  I  have  always  felt  and  acknowledged  that  I  owe  more  to 
a  few  casual  remarks  of  his  in  respect  of  the  government  of  a 
public  school,  than  to  any  advice  or  example  of  any  other  per- 
son. If  there  be  improvement  in  the  important  points  of  which 
I  have  been  speaking  at  Winchester  (and  from  the  bottom  of 
my  heart  I  testify  with  great  thankfulness  that  the  improve- 
ment is  real  and  great),  I  do  declare,  in  justice,  that  his  exam- 
ple encouraged  me  to  hope  that  it  might  be  effected,  and  his 
hints  suggested  to  me  the  way  of  effecting  it. 

I  fear  that  the  reply  which  I  have  been  able  to  make  to 
your  question  will  hardly  be  so  satisfactory  as  you  expected, 
as  it  proceeds  so  entirely  upon  my  own  observations  and  infer- 
ences. At  the  same  time  I  have  had,  perhaps,  unusual  oppor- 
tunity for  forming  an  opinion,  having  been  six  years  at  a  public 
school  at  the  time  of  their  being  at  the  lowest,  —  having  then 
mingled  with  young  men  from  other  schools  at  the  university, 
having  had  many  pupils  from  the  different  schools,  and  among 
them  several  of  Dr.  Arnold's  most  distinguished  ones ;  and  at 
last,  having  had  near  eight  years'  experience,  as  the  master  of  a 
school  which  has  undergone  in  great  measure  the  very  altera- 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          2CK) 

tion  which  I  have  been  speaking  of.  Moreover,  I  have  often 
said  the  very  things  which  I  have  here  written,  in  the  hearing 
of  men  of  all  sorts,  and  have  never  found  anybody  disposed 
to  contradict  them. 

Believe  me,  my  dear  Stanley, 

Yours  most  faithfully, 

GEORGE  MOBERLY. 

LETTERS    FROM    RUGBY. 
TO  J.   T.  COLERIDGE,  ESQ. 

RUGBY,  Aug.  29,  1828. 

.  .  .  Here  we  are  actually  at  Rugby,  and  the  school  wilt 
open  to-morrow.  I  cannot  tell  you  with  what  deep  regret  we 
left  Laleham,  where  we  had  been  so  peaceful  and  so  happy, 
and  left  my  mother,  aunt,  and  sisters  for  the  first  time  in  my 
life,  except  during  my  school  and  college  absences.  It  was 
quite  "  feror  exul  in  altum,"  etc. ;  but,  then,  we  both  looked 
upon  Rugby  as  on  our  Italy,  and  entered  it,  I  think,  with  hope 
and  with  thankfulness.  .  .  .  But  the  things  which  I  have  had 
to  settle,  and  the  people  whom  I  have  had  to  see  on  business, 
have  been  almost  endless.  To  me,  unused  as  I  was  to  busi- 
ness, it  seemed  quite  a  chaos.  But,  thank  God,  being  in  high 
health  and  spirits,  and  gaining  daily  more  knowledge  of  the 
state  of  affairs,  I  get  on  tolerably  well.  Next  week,  however, 
will  be  the  grand  experiment ;  and  I  look  to  it  naturally  with 
great  anxiety.  I  trust  I  feel  how  great  and  solemn  a  duty  I 
have  to  fulfil,  and  that  I  shall  be  enabled  to  fulfil  it  by  that 
help  which  can  alone  give  the  "Spirit  of  power  and  love,  and 
of  a  sound  mind ; "  the  three  great  requisites,  I  imagine,  in  a 
schoolmaster. 

You  need  not  fear  my  reforming  furiously ;  there,  I  think,  I 
can  assure  you :  but,  of  my  success  in  introducing  a  religious 
principle  into  education,  I  must  be  doubtful ;  it  is  my  most 
earnest  wish,  and  I  pray  God  that  it  may  be  my  constant  labor 


210         LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

and  prayer  ;  but  to  do  this  would  be  to  succeed  beyond  all  my 
hopes ;  it  would  be  a  happiness  so  great,  that  I  think  the  world 
would  yield  me  nothing  comparable  to  it.  To  do  it,  however 
imperfectly,  would  far  more  than  repay  twenty  years  of  labor 
and  anxiety. 

Saturday ',  August  ^oth.  I  have  been  receiving,  this  morning, 
a  constant  succession  of  visitors ;  and  now,  before  I  go  out  to 
return  —  August  jist.  I  was  again  interrupted,  and  now  I 
think  that  I  had  better  at  once  finish  my  letter.  I  have  entered 
twenty-nine  new  boys,  and  have  got  four  more  to  enter ;  and  I 
have  to-day  commenced  my  business  by  calling  over  names,  and 
going  into  chapel,  where  I  was  glad  to  see  that  the  boys  be- 
haved very  well.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  odd  it  seems  to  me, 
recalling,  at  once,  my  school-days  more  vividly  than  I  could 
have  thought  possible. 

TO  A  PUPIL 

(Who  had  written,  with  much  anxiety,  to  know  whether  he  had 
offended  him,  as  he  had  thought  his  manner  changed  towards  him). 

GRASMERE,  July  15,  1833. 

.  .  .  The  other  part  of  your  letter  at  once  gratified  and 
pained  me.  I  was  not  aware  of  any  thing  in  my  manner  to 
you  that  could  imply  disapprobation,  and  certainly  it  was  not 
intended  to  do  so.  Yet  it  is  true  that  I  had  observed,  with 
some  pain,  what  seemed  to  me  indications  of  a  want  of  enthu- 
siasm, in  the  good  sense  of  the  word,  of  a  moral  sense  and 
feeling  corresponding  to  what  I  knew  was  your  intellectual 
activity.  I  did  not  observe  any  thing  amounting  to  a  sneering 
spirit :  but  there  seemed  to  me  a  coldness  on  religious  matters, 
which  made  me  fear  lest  it  should  change  to  sneering,  as  your 
understanding  became  more  vigorous ;  for  this  is  the  natural 
fault  of  the  undue  predominance  of  the  mere  intellect,  unac- 
companied by  a  corresponding  growth  and  liveliness  of  the 
moral  affections,  particularly  that  of  admiration  and  love  of 
moral  excellence,  just  as  superstition  arises,  where  it  is  honest, 
from  the  undue  predominance  of  the  affections,  without  the 


LIFE    OF   THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          211 

strengthening  power  of  the  intellect  advancing  in  proportioa 
This  was  the  whole  amount  of  my  feeling  with  respect  to  you, 
and  which  has  nothing  to  do  with  your  conduct  in  school 
matters.  I  should  have  taken  an  opportunity  of  speaking  to 
you  about  the  state  of  your  mind,  had  you  not  led  me  now  to 
mention  it.  Possibly  my  impression  may  be  wrong,  and  indeed 
it  has  been  created  by  very  trifling  circumstances ;  but  I  am 
always  keenly  alive  on  this  point,  to  the  slightest  indications, 
because  it  is  the  besetting  danger  of  an  active  mind,  —  a  much 
more  serious  one,  I  think,  than  the  temptation  to  mere  personal 
vanity. 

I  must  again  say,  most  expressly,  that  I  observed  nothing 
more  than  an  apparent  want  of  lively  moral  susceptibility. 
Your  answers  on  religious  subjects  were  always  serious  and 
sensible,  and  seemed  to  me  quite  sincere :  I  only  feared  that 
they  proceeded,  perhaps  too  exclusively,  from  an  intellectual 
perception  of  truth,  without  a  sufficient  love  and  admiration 
for  goodness.  I  hold  the  lines,  "nil  admirari,"  etc.,  to  be  as 
utterly  false  as  any  moral  sentiment  ever  uttered.  Intense 
admiration  is  necessary  to  our  highest  perfection ;  and  we  have 
an  object  in  the  gospel,  for  which  it  may  be  felt  to  the  utmost, 
without  any  fear  lest  the  most  critical  intellect  should  tax  us 
justly  with  unworthy  idolatry.  But  I  am  as  little  inclined  as 
any  one  to  make  an  idol  out  of  any  human  virtue,  or  human 
wisdom. 

TO  JACOB  ABBOTT 
(Author  of  "  The  Young  Christian,"  etc.). 

RUGBY,  Nov.  i,  1833. 

Although  I  have  not  the  honor  of  being  personally  known 
to  you,  yet  my  great  admiration  of  your  little  book,  "  The 
Young  Christian,'*  and  the  circumstance  of  my  being  engaged, 
like  yourself,  in  the  work  of  education,  induce  me  to  hope  that 
you  will  forgive  the  liberty  I  am  taking  in  now  addressing  you. 
A  third  consideration  weighs  with  me,  and  in  this  I  feel  sure 
that  you  will  sympathize,  —  that  it  is  desirable  on  every  occa« 


212          LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,  D.D. 

sion  to  enlarge  the  friendly  communication  of  our  country  with 
yours.  The  publication  of  a  work  like  yours  in  America  was 
far  more  delightful  to  me  than  its  publication  in  England  could 
have  been.  Nothing  can  be  more  important  to  the  future  wel- 
fare of  mankind,  than  that  God's  people,  serving  him  in  power 
and  in  love,  and  in  a  sound  mind,  should  deeply  influence  the 
national  character  of  the  United  States,  which  in  many  parts  of 
the  Union  is  undoubtedly  exposed  to  influences  of  a  very  dif- 
ferent description,  owing  to  circumstances  apparently  beyond 
the  control  of  human  power  and  wisdom. 

I  request  your  acceptance  of  a  volume  of  Sermons,  most  of 
which,  as  you  will  see,  were  addressed  to  boys  or  very  young 
men,  and  which  therefore  coincide  in  intention  with  your  own 
admirable  book.  And  at  the  same  time  I  venture  to  send  you 
a  little  work  of  mine  on  a  different  subject,  for  no  other  reason, 
I  believe,  than  the  pleasure  of  submitting  my  views  upon  a 
great  question  to  the  judgment  of  a  mind  furnished  morally 
and  intellectually  as  yours  must  be. 

I  have  been  for  five  years  head  of  this  school.  [After  de- 
scribing the  manner  of  its  foundation  and  growth.]  You  may 
imagine,  then,  that  I  am  engaged  in  a  great  and  anxious  labor, 
and  must  have  considerable  experience  of  the  difficulty  of  turn- 
ing the  young  mind  to  know  and  love  God  in  Christ. 


TO   CHEVALIER  BUNSEN. 

I  have  been  much  delighted  with  two  American  works 
which  have  had  a  large  circulation  in  England,  —  *'  The  Young 
Christian,"  and  "The  Corner  Stone,"  by  a  New-Englander, 
Jacob  Abbott.  They  are  very  original  and  powerful ;  and  the 
American  illustrations,  whether  borrowed  from  the  scenery  or 
the  manners  of  the  people,  are  very  striking.  And  I  hear  both 
from  India  and  the  Mediterranean,  the  most  delightful  accounts 
of  the  zeal  and  resources  of  the  American  missionaries,  that 
none  are  doing  so  much  in  the  cause  of  Christ  as  they  are. 
They  will  take  our  place  in  the  world,  I  think  not  unworthily* 


LIFE    OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          21$ 

though  with  far  less  advantages  in  many  respects,  than  those 
which  we  have  so  fatally  wasted.  It  is  a  contrast  most  deeply 
humiliating  to  compare  what  we  might  have  been  with  what 
we  are,  with  almost  Israel's  privileges,  and  with  all  Israel's 
abuse  of  them.  I  could  write  on  without  limit,  if  my  time  were 
as  unlimited  as  my  inclinations :  it  is  vain  to  say  what  I  would 
give  to  talk  with  you  on  a  great  many  points,  though  your  let- 
ters have  done  more  than  I  should  have  thought  possible 
towards  enabling  me  in  a  manner  to  talk  with  you.  I  feel  no 
doubt  of  our  agreement :  indeed,  it  would  make  me  very  un- 
happy to  doubt  it,  for  I  am  sure  our  principles  are  the  same, 
and  they  ought  to  lead  to  the  same  conclusions.  And  so  I 
think  they  do.  God  bless  you,  my  dear  friend :  I  do  trust  to 
see  you  again  ere  very  long. 

TO    A    PERSON    WHO    HAD    ONCE    BEEN    HIS 
LANDLORD 

(And  was  ill  of  a  painful  disorder,  but  refused  to  see  the  clergyman  of 
the  parish,  or  allow  his  friends  to  address  him  on  religious  subjects). 

I  was  very  sorry  to  see  you  in  such  a  state  of  suffering,  and 
to  hear  from  your  friends  that  you  were  so  generally.  I  do 
not  know  that  I  have  any  title  to  write  to  you :  but  you  once 
let  me  speak  to  you,  when  I  was  your  tenant,  about  a  subject, 
on  which  I  took  it  very  kind  that  you  heard  me  patiently;  and, 
trusting  to  that,  I  am  venturing  to  write  to  you  again. 

I  have  myself  been  blessed  with  very  constant  health  :  yet  I 
have  been  led  to  think  from  time  to  time,  what  would  be  my 
greatest  support  and  comfort  if  it  should  please  God  to  visit 
me  either  with  a  very  painful  or  a  very  dangerous  illness ;  and 
I  have  always  thought,  that  in  both,  nothing  would  do  me  so 
much  good  as  to  read,  over  and  over  again,  the  account  of  the 
sufferings  and  death  of  Christ,  as  given  in  the  different  Gos- 
pels. For,  if  it  be  a  painful  complaint,  we  shall  find  that  in 
mere  pain  he  suffered  most  severely  and  in  a  great  variety  of 
ways ;  and,  if  it  be  a  dangerous  complaint,  then  we  shall  see 


214          LIFE   OF   THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

that  Christ  suffered  very  greatly  from  the  fear  of  death,  and 
was  very  sorely  troubled  in  his  mind  up  to  the  very  time 
almost  of  his  actual  dying.  And  one  great  reason  why  he  bore 
all  this,  was  that  we  might  be  supported  and  comforted  when 
we  have  to  bear  the  same. 

But  when  I  have  thought  how  this  would  comfort  me,  it  is 
very  true  that  one  cannot  help  thinking  of  the  great  difference 
between  Christ  and  one's  self,  —  that  he  was  so  good,  and  that  we 
are  so  full  of  faults  and  bad  passions  of  one  kind  or  another. 
So  that  if  he  feared  death,  we  must  have  greater  reason  to  fear 
it ;  and  so  indeed  we  have  were  it  not  for  him.  But  he  bore 
all  his  sufferings,  that  God  might  receive  us  after  our  death,  as 
surely  as  he  received  Christ  himself.  And  surely  it  is  a  com- 
fort above  all  comfort,  that  we  are  not  only  suffering  no  more 
than  Christ  suffered,  but  that  we  shall  be  happy  after  our  suf- 
ferings are  over,  as  truly  as  he  is  happy. 

Dear  Mr. ,  there  is  nothing  in  the  world  which  hinders 

you  or  me  from  having  this  comfort,  but  the  badness  and 
hardness  of  our  hearts,  which  will  not  let  us  open  ourselves 
heartily  to  God's  love  towards  us.  He  desires  to  love  us  and 
to  keep  us ;  but  we  shut  up  ourselves  from  him,  and  keep  our- 
selves in  fear  and  misery,  because  we  will  not  receive  his  good- 
ness. Oh,  how  heartily  we  should  pray  for  one  another,  and 
for  ourselves,  that  God  would  teach  us  to  love  him,  and  be 
thankful  to  him,  as  he  loves  us !  We  cannot,  indeed,  love  God,  if 
we  keep  any  evil  or  angry  passion  within  us.  If  we  do  not  for- 
give all  who  may  have  wronged  or  affronted  us,  God  has  de- 
clared most  solemnly  that  he  will  not  forgive  us.  There  is  no 
concealing  this,  or  getting  away  from  it.  If  we  cannot  forgive, 
we  cannot  be  forgiven.  But  when  I  think  of  God's  willingness 
to  forgive  me  every  day,  —  though  every  day  I  offend  him  many 
times  over,  —  it  makes  me  more  disposed  than  any  thing  else 
in  the  world,  to  forgive  those  who  have  offended  me ;  and  this, 
I  think,  is  natural,  unless  our  hearts  are  more  hard,  than  with 
all  our  faults  they  commonly  are.  If  you  think  me  taking  a 
liberty  in  writing  this,  I  can  only  beg  you  to  remember,  that  as 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          21$ 

I  hope  Christ  will  save  me,  so  he  bids  me  try  to  bring  my 
neighbors  to  him  also;  and  especially  those  whom  I  have 
known,  and  from  whom  I  have  received  kindness.  May  Christ 
save  us  both,  and  turn  our  hearts  to  love  him  and  our  neigh- 
bors, even  as  he  has  loved  us,  and  has  died  for  us ! 

TO   AN   OLD  PUPIL. 

RUGBY,  April  5, 1837. 

I  take  this  opportunity  to  answer  your  kind  and  interesting 
letter,  for  which  I  beg  you  to  accept  my  best  thanks.  I  can 
hardly  answer  it  as  I  could  wish,  but  I  do  not  like  to  delay 
writing  to  you  any  longer.  Your  account  of  yourself  and  of 
that  unhealthy  state  of  body  and  mind  under  which  you  have 
been  laboring,  was  very  touching  to  me.  I  rejoice  that  you 
were  recovering  from  it,  but  still  you  must  not  be  surprised  if 
God  should  be  pleased  to  continue  your  trials  for  some  time 
longer.  It  is  to  me  a  matter  of  the  deepest  thankfulness,  that 
the  fears,  which  I  at  one  time  had  expressed  to  you  about  your- 
self, have  been  so  entirely  groundless  :  we  have  the  comfort  of 
thinking,  that  with  the  heart  once  turned  to  God,  and  going  on 
in  his  faith  and  fear,  nothing  can  go  very  wrong  with  us,  al- 
though we  may  have  much  to  suffer,  and  many  trials  to  undergo. 
I  rejoice,  too,  that  your  mind  seems  to  be  in  a  healthier  state 
about  the  prosecution  of  your  studies.  I  am  quite  sure  that 
it  is  a  most  solemn  duty  to  cultivate  our  understandings  to  the 
uttermost,  for  I  have  seen  the  evil  moral  consequences  of  fa- 
naticism to  a  greater  degree  than  I  ever  expected  to  see  them 
realized ;  and  I  am  satisfied  that  a  neglected  intellect  is  far 
oftener  the  cause  of  mischief  to  a  man,  than  a  perverted  or 
over-valued  one.  Men  retain  their  natural  quickness  and  clev- 
erness, while  their  reason  and  judgment  are  allowed  to  go  to 
ruin ;  and  thus  they  do  work  their  minds,  and  gain  influence, 
and  are  pleased  at  gaining  it ;  but  it  is  the  undisciplined  mind 
which  they  are  exercising,  instead  of  one  wisely  disciplined. 
I  trust  that  you  will  gain  a  good  foundation  of  wisdom  in  Ox- 
ford, which  may  minister  in  after-years  to  God's  glory  and  the 


2l6         LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   £>.£>. 

good  of  souls ;  and  I  call  by  the  name  of  wisdom,  —  knowl- 
edge, rich  and  varied,  digested  and  combined,  and  pervaded 
through  and  through  by  the  light  of  the  Spirit  of  God.  Re- 
member the  words,  "  Every  scribe  instructed  to  the  kingdom 
of  God  is  like  unto  a  householder,  who  bringeth  out  of  his 
treasure  things  new  and  old ;  "  that  is,  who  does  not  think  that 
either  the  four  first  centuries  on  the  one  hand,  nor  the  nine- 
teenth century  on  the  other,  have  a  monopoly  of  truth,  but  who 
combines  a  knowledge  of  one  with  that  of  the  other,  and  judges 
all  according  to  the  judgment  which  he  has  gained  from  the 
teaching  of  the  Scriptures.  I  am  obliged  to  write  more 
shortly  than  I  could  wish  :  let  me  hear  from  you  when  you  can, 
and  see  you  when  you  can ;  and  be  sure,  that,  whether  my  judg- 
ments be  right  or  wrong,  you  have  no  friend  who  more  ear- 
nestly would  wish  to  assist  you  in  that  only  narrow  road  to  life 
eternal,  which  I  feel  sure  that  you  by  God's  grace  are  now 
treading. 

TO   AN    OLD   PUPIL,   ENGAGED   IN    BUSINESS. 

RUGBY,  Nov.  18, 1840. 

I  think  that  even  your  very  kind  and  handsome  gift  to  the 
library  has  given  me  less  pleasure  than  the  letter  which  ac- 
companied it,  and  which  was  one  of  the  highest  gratifications 
that  a  man  in  my  profession  can  ever  experience.  Most  sin- 
cerely do  I  thank  you  for  it,  and  be  assured  that  I  do  value  it 
very  deeply.  Your  letter  holds  out  to  me  another  prospect 
which  interests  me  very  deeply.  I  have  long  felt  a  very  deep 
concern  about  the  state  of  our  manufacturing  population,  and 
have  seen  how  enormous  was  the  work  to  be  done  there,  and 
how  much  good  men,  especially  those  who  were  not  clergymen, 
were  wanted  to  do  it.  And,  therefore,  I  think  of  you  as  en- 
gaged in  business,  with  no  little  satisfaction,  being  convinced 
that  a  good  man,  highly  educated,  cannot  possibly  be  in  a  more 
important  position  in  this  kingdom  than  as  one  of  the  heads 
of  a  great  manufacturing  establishment.  I  feel  encouraged 
also,  by  the  kindness  of  your  letter,  to  trouble  you,  perhaps, 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          2 1/ 

hereafter  with  some  questions  on  a  point  where  my  practical 
knowledge  is,  of  course,  nothing.  Yet  I  see  the  evils  and  dan- 
gers of  the  present  state  of  things,  and  long  that  those  who 
have  the  practical  knowledge  could  be  brought  steadily  and 
systematically  to  consider  the  possibility  of  a  remedy.  .  .  .  We 
are  now  in  the  midst  of  the  winter  examination,  which,  as  you 
may  remember,  gives  us  all  sufficient  employment. 

TO   ARCHBISHOP   WHATELY. 

I  must  conclude  with  a  more  delightful  subject, — my  most 
dear  and  blessed  sister.  I  never  saw  a  more  perfect  instance 
of  the  spirit  of  power  and  of  love,  and  of  a  sound  mind ;  in- 
tense love,  almost  to  the  annihilation  of  selfishness  —  a  daily 
martyrdom  for  twenty  years,  during  which  she  adhered  to  her 
early-formed  resolution  of  never  talking  about  herself ;  thought- 
ful about  the  very  pins  and  ribbons  of  my  wife's  dress,  about 
the  making  of  a  doll's  cap  for  a  child  —  but  of  herself,  save 
only  as  regarded  her  ripening  in  all  goodness,  wholly  thought- 
less, enjoying  every  thing  lovely,  graceful,  beautiful,  high- 
minded,  whether  in  God's  works  or  man's,  with  the  keenest 
relish ;  inheriting  the  earth  to  the  very  fulness  of  the  promise, 
though  never  leaving  her  crib,  nor  changing  her  posture  ;  and 
preserved  through  the  very  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death, 
from  all  fear  or  impatience,  or  from  every  cloud  of  impaired 
reason,  which  might  mar  the  beauty  of  Christ's  Spirit's  glori- 
ous work.  May  God  grant  that  I  might  come  but  within  one 
hundred  degrees  of  her  place  in  glory.  God  bless  you  all. 

TO   MR.   JUSTICE   COLERIDGE. 

Fox  How,  Jan.  2,  1841. 

...  If  our  minds  were  comprehensive  enough,  and  life  were 
long  enough,  to  follow  with  pleasure  every  pursuit  not  sinful, 
I  can  fancy  that  it  would  be  better  to  like  shooting  than  not  to 
like  it ;  but  as  things  are,  all  our  life  must  be  a  selection,  and 
pursuits  must  be  neglected,  because  we  have  not  time  or  mind 


2l8         LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,  D.D. 

to  spare  for  them.  So  that  I  cannot  but  think,  that  shooting 
and  fishing,  in  our  state  of  society,  must  always  be  indulged  at 
the  expense  of  something  better. 

I  feel  quite  as  strongly  as  you  do  the  extreme  difficulty  of 
giving  to  girls  what  really  deserves  the  name  of  education  in- 
tellectually. When was  young,  I  used  to  teach  her  some 

Latin  with  her  brothers,  and  that  has  been,  I  think,  of  real  use 
to  her ;  and  she  feels  it  now  in  reading  and  translating  German, 
of  which  she  does  a  great  deal.  But  there  is  nothing  for  girls 
like  the  Degree  examination,  which  concentrates  one's  reading 
so  beautifully,  and  makes  one  master  a  certain  number  of  books 
perfectly.  And  unless  we  had  a  domestic  examination  for 
young  ladies  to  be  passed  before  they  came  out,  and  another 
like  the  great  go,  before  they  come  of  age,  I  do  not  see  how 
the  thing  can  ever  be  effected.  Seriously,  I  do  not  see  how  we 
can  supply  sufficient  encouragement  for  systematic  and  labori- 
ous reading,  or  how  we  can  insure  many  things  being  retained 
at  once  fully  in  the  mind,  when  we  are  wholly  without  the  ma- 
chinery which  we  have  for  our  boys.  I  do  nothing  now  with 
my  girls  regularly,  owing  to  want  of  time :  once,  for  a  little 

while,   I   used   to   examine in   Guizot's  "  Civilization   of 

France ; "  and  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  few  better  books  could 
be  found  for  the  purpose  than  this  and  his  "  Civilization  of 
Europe."  They  embrace  a  great  multitude  of  subjects,  and  a 
great  variety,  and  some  philosophical  questions  among  the  rest, 
which  would  introduce  a  girl's  mind  a  little  to  that  world  of 
thought  to  which  we  were  introduced  by  our  Aristotle. 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

GENERAL   LIFE   AT   RUGBY. 

THE  general  view  of  Dr.  Arnold's  life  at  Rugby  must 
not  be  closed  without  touching,  however  briefly  and 
imperfectly,  on  that  aspect  of  it  which  naturally  gave 
the  truest  view  of  his  mind  and  character,  whilst  to 
those  at  a  distance  it  was  comparatively  but  little  known. 

Perhaps  the  scene  which,  to  those  who  knew  him 
best,  would  bring  together  the  recollections  of  his 
public  and  private  life  in  the  most  lively  way,  was  his 
study  at  Rugby.  There  he  sat  at  his  work,  with  no 
attempt  at  seclusion,  —  conversation  going  on  around 
him ;  his  children  playing  in  the  room ;  his  frequent 
guests,  whether  friends  or  former  pupils,  coming  in  or 
out  at  will,  —  ready  at  once  to  break  off  his  occupations 
to  answer  a  question,  or  to  attend  to  the  many  inter- 
ruptions to  which  he  was  liable ;  and  from  these 
interruptions,  or  from  his  regular  avocations,  at  the  few- 
odd  hours  or  minutes  which  he  could  command,  would 
he  there  return  and  recommence  his  writing,  as  if  it 
had  not  been  broken  off.  "Instead  of  feeling  my 
head  exhausted,"  he  would  sometimes  say  after  the 


-1220          LIFE    OF   THOMAS  ARNOLD,    D.D. 

day's  business  was  over,  "  it  seems  to  have  quite  an 
eagerness  to  set  to  work."  "  I  feel  as  if  I  could  dic- 
tate to  twenty  secretaries  at  once." 

Yet,  almost  unfailing  as  was  this  "unhasting,  unrest- 
ing diligence,"  to  use  the  expression  of  a  keen  observ- 
er, who  thus  characterized  his  impression  of  one  day's 
visit  at  Rugby,  he  would  often  wish  for  something 
more  like  leisure  and  repose.  "  We  sometimes  feel," 
he  said,  "  as  if  we  should  like  to  run  our  heads  into  a 
hole  —  to  be  quiet  for  a  little  time  from  the  stir  of  so 
many  human  beings  which  greets  us  from  morning  to 
evening."  And  it  was  from  amidst  this  chaos  of 
employments  that  he  turned,  with  all  the  delight  of 
which  his  nature  was  capable,  to  what  he  often  dwelt 
upon  as  the  rare,  the  unbroken,  the  almost  awful 
happiness  of  his  domestic  life.  It  is  impossible  ade- 
quately to  describe  the  union  of  the  whole  family 
round  him,  who  was  not  only  the  father  and  guide, 
but  the  elder  brother  and  playfellow,  of  his  children ; 
the  first  feelings  of  enthusiastic  love  and  watchful  care, 
carried  through  twenty-two  years  of  wedded  life, — 
the  gentleness  and  devotion  which  marked  his  whole 
feeling  and  manner  in  the  privacy  of  his  domestic 
intercourse.  Those  who  had  known  him  only  in  the 
school,  can  remember  the  kind  of  surprise  with  which 
they  first  witnessed  his  tenderness  and  playfulness. 
Those  who  had  known  him  only  in  the  bosom  of  his 
family,  found  it  difficult  to  conceive  how  his  pupils  or 
the  world  at  large  should  have  formed  to  themselves 
:so  stern  an  image  of  one  in  himself  so  loving.  Yet 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          221 

both  were  alike  natural  to  him ;  the  severity  and  the 
playfulness  expressing  each  in  their  turn  the  earnestness 
with  which  he  entered  into  the  business  of  life,  and 
the  enjoyment  with  which  he  entered  into  its  rest; 
whilst  the  common  principle,  which  linked  both  to- 
gether, made  every  closer  approach  to  him  in  his, 
private  life  a  means  for  better  understanding  him  in 
his  public  relations. 

Enough,  however,  may  perhaps  be  said  to  recall 
something  at  least  of  its  outward  aspect.  There  were 
his  hours  of  thorough  relaxation,  when  he  would  throw 
off  all  thoughts  of  the  school  and  of  public  matters ;  his 
quiet  walks  by  the  side  of  his  wife's  pony,  when  he 
would  enter  into  the  full  enjoyment  of  air  and  exercise, 
and  the  outward  face  of  nature,  observing  with  dis- 
tinct pleasure  each  symptom  of  the  burst  of  spring  or 
of  the  richness  of  summer  —  "  feeling  like  a  horse 
pawing  the  ground,  impatient  to  be  off,"  —  "  as  if  the 
very  act  of  existence  was  an  hourly  pleasure  to  him." 
There  was  the  cheerful  voice  that  used  to  go  sounding 
through  the  house  in  the  early  morning,  as  he  went 
round  to  call  his  children ;  the  new  spirits  which  he 
seemed  to  gather  from  the  mere  glimpses  of  them  in 
the  midst  of  his  occupations  ;  the  increased  merriment 
of  all  in  any  game  in  which  he  joined ;  the  happy 
walks  on  which  he  would  take  them  in  the  fields  and 
hedges,  hunting  for  flowers ;  the  yearly  excursions  to 
look  in  a  neighboring  clay-pit  for  the  earliest  colt's-foot, 
with  the  mock  siege  that  followed.  Nor,  again,  was 
the  sense  of  his  authority  as  a  father  ever  lost  in  his 


222          LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

playfulness  as  a  companion.  His  personal  superin- 
tendence of  their  ordinary  instructions  was  necessarily 
limited  by  his  other  engagements,  but  it  was  never 
wholly  laid  aside  :  in  the  later  years  of  his  life  it  was 
his  custom  to  read  the  Psalms  and  Lessons  of  the 
clay  with  his  family  every  morning ;  and  the  common 
reading  of  a  chapter  in  the  Bible  every  Sunday  even- 
ing, with  repetition  of  hymns  or  parts  of  Scripture,  by 
every  member  of  the  family;  the  devotion  with  which 
he  would  himself  repeat  his  favorite  poems  from  "  The 
Christian  Year,"  or  his  favorite  passages  from  the 
Gospels ;  the  same  attitude  of  deep  attention  in 
listening  to  the  questions  of  his  youngest  children; 
the  same  reverence  in  answering  their  difficulties, 
that  he  would  have  shown  to  the  most  advanced  of  his 
friends  or  his  scholars,  —  form  a  picture  not  soon  to 
pass  away  from  the  mind  of  any  one  who  was  ever 
present.  But  his  teaching  in  his  family  was  naturally 
not  confined  to  any  particular  occasions  :  they  looked 
to  him  for  information  and  advice  at  all  times,  and  a 
word  of  authority  from  him  was  a  law  not  to  be  ques- 
tioned for  a  moment.  And  with  the  tenderness  which 
seemed  to  be  alive  to  all  their  wants  and  wishes,  there 
was  united  that  peculiar  sense  of  solemnity  with  which 
in  his  eyes  the  very  idea  of  a  family  life  was  invested. 
"I  do  not  wonder,"  he  said,  " that  it  was  thought  a 
great  misfortune  to  die  childless  in  old  times,  when 
they  had  not  fuller  light  —  it  seems  so  completely 
wiping  a  man  out  of  existence."  The  anniversaries 
of  domestic  events,  the  passing  away  of  successive 


LIFE    OF   THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          22$ 

generations,  the  entrance  of  his  sons  on  the  several 
stages  of  their  education,  —  struck  on  the  deepest 
chords  of  his  nature,  and  made  him  blend  with  every 
prospect  of  the  future,  the  keen  sense  of  the  contin- 
uance (so  to  speak)  of  his  own  existence  in  the  good 
and  evil  fortunes  of  his  children,  and  to  unite  the 
thought  of  them  with  the  yet  more  solemn  feeling 
with  which  he  was  at  all  times  wont  to  regard  "  the 
blessing "  of  "a  whole  house  transplanted  entire  from 
earth  to  heaven,  without  one  failure." 

In  his  own  domestic  happiness  he  never  lost  sight 
of  his  early  friends.  "  He  was  attached  to  his  family," 
it  was  truly  said  of  him  by  Archbishop  Whately,  as  if  he 
had  no  friends  ;  to  his  friends,  as  if  he  had  no  family ; 
and,"  he  adds,  "  to  his  country,  as  if  he  had  no  friends 
or  relations."  Debarred  as  he  was  from  frequent  inter- 
course with  most  of  them  by  his  and  their  occupations, 
he  made  it  part  of  the  regular  business  of  his  life  to 
keep  up  a  correspondence  with  them.  "  I  never  do," 
he  said,  "  and  I  trust  I  never  shall,  excuse  myself  for 
not  writing  to  old  and  dear  friends,  for  it  is  really  a 
duty  which  it  is  mere  indolence  and  thoughtlessness 
to  neglect."  The  very  aspect  of  their  several  homes 
lived  as  distinct  images  in  his  mind,  and  seemed  to 
have  an  equal  claim  on  his  interest.  To  men  of  such 
variety  of  opinion  and  character,  that  the  very  names 
of  some  of  them  are  identified  with  measures  and 
views  the  most  opposite  that  good  men  can  entertain, 
he  retained  to  the  end  a  strong  and  almost  equal  affec- 
tion. The  absence  of  greater  mutual  sympathy  was 


224          LIFE   OF   THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

to  him  almost  the  only  shadow  thrown  over  his  happy 
life;  no  difference  of  opinion  ever  destroyed  his 
desire  for  intercourse  with  them ;  and  where,  in  spite 
of  his  own  efforts  to  continue  it,  it  was  so  interrupted, 
the  subject  was  so  painful  to  him,  that,  even  with  those 
most  intimate  with  him,  he  could  hardly  bear  to  allude 
to  it. 

How  lively  was  his  interest  in  the  state  of  England 
generally,  and  especially  of  the  lower  orders,  will  ap- 
pear elsewhere.  But  the  picture  of  his  ordinary  life 
would  be  incomplete  without  mention  of  his  inter- 
course with  the  poor.  He  purposely  abstained,  as 
will  be  seen,  from  mixing  much  in  the  affairs  of  the 
town  and  neighborhood  of  Rugby.  But  he  was  always 
ready  to  assist  in  matters  of  local  charity  or  usefulness, 
—  giving  lectures,  for  example,  before  the  Mechanics' 
Institutes  at  Rugby  and  Lutterworth,  writing  tracts  on 
the  appearance  of  the  cholera  in  the  vicinity,  and, 
after  the  establishment  of  the  railway  station  at  half  a 
mile  from  the  town,  procuring  the  sanction  of  the 
bishop  for  the  performance  of  a  short  service  there 
on  Sunday  by  himself  and  the  assistant  masters  in 
turn.  And  with  the  poor  generally,  though  his  ac- 
quaintance was  naturally  much  more  limited  than  it 
had  been  in  the  village  of  Laleham,  yet  with  some 
few,  chiefly  aged  persons  in  the  almshouse  of  the  place, 
he  made  a  point  of  keeping  up  a  frequent  and  familiar 
intercourse. 

In  this  intercourse,  sometimes  in  conversations  with 
them  as  he  met  or  overtook  them  alone  on  the  road, 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,  D.D.          22$ 

usually  in  such  visits  as  he  could  pay  to  them  in  his 
spare  moments  of  relaxation,  he  assumed  less  of  the 
character  of  a  teacher  than  most  clergymen  would 
have  thought  right,  reading  to  them  occasionally,  but 
generally  talking  to  them  with  the  manner  of  a  friend 
and  an  equal.  This  resulted  partly  from  the  natural 
reserve  and  shyness  which  made  him  shrink  from 
entering  on  sacred  subjects  with  comparative  strangers, 
and  which,  though  he  latterly  somewhat  overcame  it, 
almost  disqualified  him,  in  his  own  judgment,  from 
taking  charge  of  a  parish.  But  it  was  also  the  effect 
of  his  reluctance  to  address  them  in  a  more  authori- 
tative or  professional  tone  than  he  would  have  used 
towards  persons  of  his  own  rank.  Feeling  keenly 
what  seemed  to  him  at  once  the  wrong  and  the  mis- 
chief done  by  the  too  wide  separation  between  the 
higher  and  lower  orders,  he  wished  to  visit  them  "  as 
neighbors,  without  always  seeming  bent  on  relieving  or 
instructing  them,"  and  could  not  bear  to  use  language 
which  to  any  one  in  a  higher  station  would  have  beea 
thought  an  interference.  With  the  servants  of  his 
household,  for  the  same  reasons,  he  was  in  the  habit, 
whether  in  travelling  or  in  his  own  house,  of  consulting 
their  accommodation,  and  speaking  to  them  familiarly, 
as  to  so  many  members  of  the  domestic  circle.  And 
in  all  this,  writes  one  who  knew  well  his  manner  to  the 
poor,  "  there  was  no  affectation  of  condescension :  it 
was  a  manly  address  to  his  fellow-men,  as  man  address- 
ing man."  "  I  never  knew  such  a  humble  man  as  the 
Doctor,"  said  the  parish  clerk  at  Laleham,  after  he  had 


226          LIFE   OF   THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

revisited  it  from  Rugby  :  "  he  comes  and  shakes  us  by 
the  hand  as  if  he  was  one  of  us."  "  He  used  to  come 
into  my  house,"  said  an  old  woman  near  his  place  in 
Westmoreland,  "and  talk  to  me  as  if  I  was  a  lady." 
Often,  no  doubt,  this  was  not  appreciated  by  the  poor, 
and  might,  at  times,  be  embarrassing  to  himself;  and 
it  is  said  that  he  was  liable  to  be  imposed  upon  by 
them,  and  greatly  to  overrate  their  proficiency  in 
moral  and  religious  excellence.  But  he  felt  this  inter- 
course to  be  peculiarly  needful  for  one  engaged  in 
occupations  such  as  his :  to  the  remembrance  of  the 
good  poor,  whom  he  visited  at  Rugby,  he  often 
recurred  when  absent  from  them  ;  and  nothing  can  ex- 
ceed the  regret  which  they  testify  at  his  loss,  and  the 
grateful  affection  with  which  they  still  speak  of  him, 
pointing  with  delight  to  the  seat  which  he  used  to 
occupy  by  their  firesides ;  one  of  them  especially,  an 
old  almswoman,  who  died  a  few  months  after  his  own 
decease,  up  to  the  last  moment  of  consciousness  never 
ceasing  to  think  of  his  visits  to  her,  and  of  the  hope 
with  which  she  looked  forward  now  to  seeing  his  face 
once  more  again. 

Closely  as  he  was  bound  to  Rugby  by  these  and 
similar  bonds  of  social  and  familiar  life,  and  yet  more 
closely  by  the  charm  with  which  its  mere  outward 
aspect  and  localities  were  invested  by  his  interest  in 
the  school,  both  as  an  independent  institution  and  as 
his  own  sphere  of  duty,  yet  the  place  in  itself  never 
had  the  same  strong  hold  on  his  affections  as  Oxford 
or  Laleham  ;  and  his  holidays  were  almost  always  spent 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.         22/ 

away  from  Rugby,  either  in  short  tours,  or  in  later  years 
at  his  Westmoreland  home,  Fox  How,  a  small  estate 
between  Rydal  and  Ambleside,  which  he  purchased  in 
1832,  with  the  view  of  providing  for  himself  a  retreat, 
in  case  of  his  retirement  from  the  school,  or  for  his 
family  in  case  of  his  death.  The  monotonous  charac- 
ter of  the  midland  scenery  of  Warwickshire  was  to 
him,  with  his  strong  love  of  natural  beauty  and  vari- 
ety, absolutely  repulsive  :  there  was  something  almost 
touching  in  the  eagerness  with  which,  amidst  that 
"endless  succession  of  fields  and  hedge-rows,"  he 
would  make  the  most  of  any  features  of  a  higher 
order ;  in  the  pleasure  with  which  he  would  cherish 
the  few  places  where  the  current  of  the  Avon  was  per- 
ceptible, or  where  a  glimpse  of  the  horizon  could  be 
discerned ;  in  the  humorous  despair  with  which  he 
would  gaze  on  the  dull  expanse  of  fields  eastward  from 
Rugby.  "It  is  no  wonder  we  do  not  like  looking  that 
way,  when  one  considers  that  there  is  nothing  fine 
between  us  and  the  Ural  Mountains.  Conceive  what 
you  look  over ;  for  you  just  miss  Sweden,  and  look 
over  Holland,  the  north  of  Germany,  and  the  centre 
of  Russia."  With  this  absence  of  local  attraction  in 
the  place,  and  with  the  conviction  that  his  occupations 
and  official  station  must  make  him  look  for  his  future 
home  elsewhere,  "  I  feel,"  he  said,  "  that  I  love  Mid- 
dlesex and  Westmoreland,  but  I  care  nothing  for 
Warwickshire,  and  am  in  it  like  a  plant  sunk  in  the 
ground  in  a  pot :  my  roots  never  strike  beyond  the  pot, 
and  I  could  be  transplanted  at  any  minute  without 


228         LIFE   OF   THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

tearing  or  severing  of  my  fibres.  To  the  pot  itself, 
which  is  the  school,  I  could  cling  very  lovingly,  were 
it  not  that  the  laborious  nature  of  the  employment 
makes  me  feel  that  it  can  be  only  temporary,  and  that, 
if  I  live  to  old  age,  my  age  could  not  be  spent  in  my 
present  situation." 

Fox  How,  accordingly,  became  more  and  more  the 
centre  of  all  his  local  and  domestic  affections.  "  It  is 
with  a  mixed  feeling  of  solemnity  and  tenderness,"  he 
said,  "  that  I  regard  our  mountain  nest,  whose  surpass- 
ing sweetness,  I  think  I  may  safely  say,  adds  a  positive 
happiness  to  every  one  of  my  waking  hours  passed  in 
it."  When  absent  from  it,  it  still,  he  said,  "  dwelt  in 
his  memory  as  a  vision  of  beauty  from  one  vacation 
to  another ;  "  and  when  present  at  it,  he  felt  that  "  no 
hasty  or  excited  admiration  of  a  tourist  could  be  com- 
pared with  the  quiet  and  hourly  delight  of  having  the 
mountains  and  streams  as  familiar  objects,  connected 
with  the  enjoyments  of  home,  one's  family,  one's  books, 
and  one's  friends,"  —  "  associated  with  our  work-day 
thoughts  as  well  as  our  gala-day  ones." 

Then  it  was  that,  as  he  sat  working  in  the  midst  of 
his  family,  "  never  raising  his  eyes  from  the  paper  to 
the  window  without  an  influx  of  ever  new  delights," 
he  found  that  leisure  for  writing  which  he  so  much 
craved  at  Rugby.  Then  it  was  that  he  enjoyed  the 
entire  relaxation  which  he  so  much  needed  after  his 
school  occupations,  whether  in  the  journeys  of  coming 
and  returning,  —  those  long  journeys,  which,  before  they 
were  shortened  by  railway  travelling,  were  to  him,  he 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,  D.D.         229 

used  to  say,  the  twelve  most  restful  days  of  the  whole 
year,  —  or  in  the  birthday  festivities  of  his  children, 
and  the  cheerful  evenings  when  all  subjects  were  dis- 
cussed, from  the  gravest  to  the  lightest,  and  when  he 
would  read  to  them  his  favorite  stories  from  Herodo- 
tus, or  his  favorite  English  poets.  Most  of  all,  per- 
haps, was  to  be  observed  his  delight  in  those  long 
mountain-walks,  when  they  would  start  with  their  pro- 
visions for  the  day,  himself  the  guide  and  life  of  the 
party,  always  on  the  look-out  how  best  to  break  the 
ascent  by  gentle  stages,  comforting  the  little  ones  in 
their  falls,  and  helping  forward  those  who  were  tired, 
himself  always  keeping  with  the  laggers,  that  none 
might  strain  their  strength  by  trying  to  be  in  front 
with  him ;  and  then,  when  his  assistance  was  not 
wanted,  the  liveliest  of  all ;  his  step  so  light,  his  eye  so 
quick  in  finding  flowers  to  take  home  to  those  who 
were  not  of  the  party. 

Year  by  year  bound  him  with  closer  ties  to  his  new 
home  :  not  only  Fox  How  itself  with  each  particular 
tree,  the  growth  of  which  he  had  watched,  and  each 
particular  spot  in  the  grounds,  associated  by  him  with 
the  playful  names  of  his  nine  children,  but  also  the 
whole  valley  in  which  it  lay,  became  consecrated  with 
something  of  a  domestic  feeling.  Rydal  Chapel,  with 
the  congregation  to  which  he  had  so  often  preached ; 
the  new  circle  of  friends  and  acquaintance  with  whom 
he  kept  up  so  familiar  an  intercourse ;  the  gorges 
and  rocky  pools  which  owed  their  nomenclature  to 
him,  —  all  became  part  of  his  habitual  thoughts. 


230         LIFE   OF  7'HOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

He  delighted  to  derive  his  imagery  from  the  hills  and 
lakes  of  Westmoreland,  and  to  trace  in  them  the  like- 
nesses of  his  favorite  scenes  in  poetry  and  history : 
even  their  minutest  features  were  of  a  kind  that  were 
most  attractive  to  him ;  "  the  running  streams  "  which 
were  to  him  "  the  most  beautiful  objects  in  nature ;  " 
the  wild- flowers  on  the  mountain  sides,  which  were 
to  him,  he  said,  "  his  music,"  and  which,  whether  in 
their  scarcity  at  Rugby,  or  their  profusion  in  West- 
moreland, "  loving  them,"  as  he  used  to  say,  "  as  a 
child  loves  them/'  he  could  not  bear  to  see  removed 
from  their  natural  places  by  the  wayside,  where  others 
might  enjoy  them  as  well  as  himself.  The  very  peace- 
fulness  of  all  the  historical  and  moral  associations  of 
the  scenery  —  free  alike  from  the  remains  of  feudal 
ages  in  the  past,  and  suggesting  comparatively  so  little 
of  suffering  or  evil  in  the  present  —  rendered  doubly 
grateful  to  him  the  refreshment  which  he  there  found 
from  the  rough  world  in  the  school,  or  the  sad  feelings 
awakened  in  his  mind  by  the  thoughts  of  his  Church 
and  country.  There  he  hoped,  when  the  time  should 
have  come  for  his  retreat  from  Rugby,  to  spend  his 
declining  years.  Other  visions,  indeed,  of  a  more 
practical  and  laborious  life,  from  time  to  time  passed 
before  him  :  but  Fox  How  was  the  image  which  most 
constantly  presented  itself  to  him  in  all  prospects 
for  the  future;  there  he  intended  to  have  lived  in 
peace,  maintaining  his  connection  with  the  rising  gen- 
eration by  receiving  pupils  from  the  Universities ;  there, 
under  the  shade  of  the  trees  of  his  own  planting,  he 


LIFE   OF   THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          231 

hoped  in  his  old  age  to  give  to  the  world  the  fruits  of 
his  former  experience  and  labors,  by  executing  those 
works  for  which  at  Rugby  he  felt  himself  able  only  to 
prepare  the  way,  or  lay  the  first  foundations,  and  never 
again  leave  his  retirement  till  (to  use  his  own  expres- 
sion) "  his  bones  should  go  to  Grasmere  churchyard, 
to  lie  under  the  yews  which  Wordsworth  planted,  and 
to  have  the  Rotha,  with  its  deep  and  silent  pools,  pass- 
ing by." 


232         LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 


CHAPTER  V. 

LAST  YEAR,    1842. 

IT  was  now  the  fourteenth  year  of  Dr.  Arnold's  stay 
at  Rugby, —  a  year,  on  every  account,  of  peculiar  in- 
terest to  himself  and  his  scholars.  It  had  opened  with 
an  unusual  mortality  in  the  school.  One  of  his 
colleagues,  and  seven  of  his  pupils,  mostly  from  causes 
unconnected  with  each  other,  had  been  carried  off 
within  its  first  quarter ;  and  the  return  of  the  boys  had 
been  delayed  beyond  the  accustomed  time  in  conse- 
quence of  a  fever  lingering  in  Rugby,  during  which 
period  he  had  a  detachment  of  the  higher  forms 
residing  near  or  with  him  at  Fox  How.  It  was 
during  his  stay  here  that  he  received  from  Lord  Mel- 
bourne the  offer  of  the  Regius  Professorship  of  Modern 
History  at  Oxford,  vacant  by  the  death  of  Dr.  Nares. 
How  joyfully  he  caught  at  this  unexpected  realization 
of  his  fondest  hopes  for  his  latest  years,  and  how 
bright  a  gleam  it  imparted  to  the  sunset  of  his  life, 
will  best  be  expressed  by  his  own  letters  and  by  the 
account  of  his  Lectures. 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.         233 

TQ  THE  REV.   DR.   HAWKINS. 

Fox  How,  Aug.  21, 1841. 

You  may  perhaps  have  heard  my  news  already ;  but  I  must 
tell  you  myself,  because  you  are  so  much  connected  with  my 
pleasure  in  it.  I  have  accepted  the  Regius  Professorship  of 
Modern  History,  chiefly  to  gratify  my  earnest  longing  to  have 
some  direct  connection  with  Oxford ;  and  I  have  thought  with 
no  small  delight  that  I  should  now  see  something  of  you  in  the 
natural  course  of  things  every  year,  for  my  wife  and  myself 
hope  to  take  lodgings  for  ten  days  or  a  fortnight  every  Lent 
Term,  at  the  end  of  our  Christmas  holidays,  for  me  to  give  my 
lectures.  I  could  not  resist  the  temptation  of  accepting  the 
office,  though  it  will  involve  some  additional  work ;  and  if  I 
live  to  leave  Rugby,  the  income,  though  not  great,  will  be 
something  to  us  when  we  are  poor  people  at  Fox  How.  But 
to  get  a  regular  situation  in  Oxford  would  have  tempted  me, 
I  believe,  had  it  been  accompanied  by  no  salary  at  all. 

I  go  up  to  Oxford  on  the  2d  of  December,  Thursday  week, 
to  read  my  inaugural  lecture.  I  suppose  it  is  too  much  to 
hope  that  you  could  be  there,  but  it  would  give  me  the  greatest 
pleasure  to  utter  my  first  words  in  Oxford  in  your  hearing.  I 
am  going  to  give  a  general  sketch  first  of  the  several  parts  of 
history  generally,  and  their  relation  to  each  other,  and  then 
of  the  peculiarities  of  modern  history.  This  will  do  very  well 
for  an  inaugural  lecture;  but  what  to  choose  for  my  course 
after  we  return  from  Fox  How  I  can  scarcely  tell,  considering 
how  little  time  I  shall  have  for  any  deep  research,  and  how 
important  it  is  at  the  same  time  that  my  first  lectures  should 
not  be  superficial.  .  .  .  Our  examination  begins  on  Wednes- 
day ;  still,  as  "  Thucydides  "  is  done,  and  gone  to  the  press,  and 
as  my  lecture  will  be  finished,  I  hope,  in  one  or  two  evenings 
more,  I  expect  to  be  able  to  go  on  again  with  my  history 
before  the  end  of  the  week ;  and  I  may  do  a  little  in  it  before 
we  go  to  Fox  How. 


234         LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,  D.D. 

On  the  2d  of  December  he  entered  on  his  pro- 
fessorial duties  by  delivering  his  inaugural  lecture. 
His  school  work  not  permitting  him  to  be  absent  more 
than  one  whole  day,  he  left  Rugby  with  Mrs.  Arnold, 
very  early  in  the  morning,  and,  occupying  himself  from 
the  time  it  became  light  in  looking  over  the  school 
exercises,  reached  Oxford  at  noon.  The  day  had 
been  looked  forward  to  with  eager  expectation  :  and 
the  usual  lecture-rooms  in  the  Clarendon  Buildings 
being  unable  to  contain  the  crowds  that,  to  the  num- 
ber of  four  or  five  hundred,  flocked  to  hear  him,  the 
"  Theatre  "  was  used  for  the  occasion ;  and  there,  its 
whole  area  and  lower  galleries  entirely  filled,  the  pro- 
fessor arose  from  his  place,  amidst  the  highest  univer- 
sity authorities  in  their  official  seats,  and  in  that  clear, 
manly  voice,  which  so  long  retained  its  hold  on  the 
memory  of  those  who  heard  it,  began,  amidst  deep 
silence,  the  opening  words  of  his  inaugural  lecture. 

The  time  which  he  had  originally  fixed  for  his  retire- 
ment from  Rugby  was  now  drawing  near ;  and  the  new 
sphere  opened  to  him  in  his  professorship  at  Oxford, 
seemed  to  give  a  fixedness  to  his  future  prospects, 
which  would  naturally  increase  his  long-cherished 
wishes  of  greater  leisure  and  repose.  But  he  still  felt 
himself  in  the  vigor  of  life,  and  used  to  rejoice  in  the 
thought  that  the  forty-ninth  year,  fixed  by  Aristotle  as 
the  acme  of  the  human  faculties,  lay  still  some  years 
before  him.  The  education  of  his  two  younger  sons 
was  a  strong  personal  inducement  to  him  to  remain  a 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.         235 

short  time  longer  in  his  situation.  His  professorial 
labors  were,  of  course,  but  an  appendage  to  his  duties 
in  the  school ;  and  when  some  of  the  unforeseen  details 
of  the  entrance  on  his  new  office  had  seemed  likely  to. 
deprive  him  of  the  place  which  he  had  so  delighted 
to  receive, —  "in  good  and  sober  truth,"  he  writes  to- 
Archbishop  Whately,  "  I  believe  that  this  and  all  other- 
things  are  ordered  far  more  wisely  than  I  could  order 
them,  and  it  will  seem  a  manifest  call  to  turn  my  mind 
more  closely  to  the  great  work  which  is  before  me  here- 
at  Rugby."  The  unusual  amount  also  of  sickness  and ; 
death  which  had  marked  the  beginning  of  the  school 
year,  naturally  gave  an  increased  earnestness  to  his 
dealings  with  the  boys.  His  latest  scholars  were  struck 
by  the  great  freedom  and  openness  with  which  he- 
spoke  to  them  on  more  serious  subjects ;  the  more- 
directly  practical  applications  which  he  made  of  their 
Scriptural  lessons ;  the  emphasis  with  which  he  called 
their  attention  to  the  contrast  between  Christian  faith* 
and  love,  and  that  creed  of  later  paganism,  which- 
made  "  the  feelings  of  man  towards  the  Deity  to  be 
exactly  those  with  which  we  gaze  at  a  beautiful  sun- 
set." The  same  cause  would  occasion  those  frequent 
thoughts  of  death  which  appear  in  his  chapel  sermons, 
and  in  his  more  private  life  during  this  last  year. 
There  had  never,  indeed,  been  a  time  from  his  earliest 
manhood,  in  which  the  uncertainty  of  human  life  had' 
not  been  one  of  the  fixed  images  of  his  mind ;  and' 
many  instances  would  recur  to  all  who  knew  him,  of 
the  way  in  which  it  was  constantly  blended  with  all  his, 


236         LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

thoughts  of  the  future.  "Shall  I  tell  you,  my  little 
boy/'  he  once  said  to  one  of  his  younger  children, 
whose  joyful  glee  at  the  approaching  holidays  he  had 
gently  checked,  —  "shall  I  tell  you  why  I  call  it  sad?" 
and  he  then  repeated  to  him  the  simple  story  of 
his  own  early  childhood,  —  how  his  own  father  had 
made  him  read  to  him  a  sermon  on  the  text,  "Boast 
not  thyself  of  to-morrow/'  on  the  very  Sunday  evening 
before  his  sudden  death.  "Now  cannot  you  see, 
when  you  talk  with  such  certainty  about  this  day  week 
and  what  we  shall  do,  why  it  seems  sad  to  me  ? " 
But  it  was  natural  that  such  expressions  should  have 
been  more  often  remarked  by  those  who  heard  them 
during  this  year,  even  had  they  not  been  in  themselves 
more  frequent.  "  It  is  one  of  the  most  solemn  things 
I  do,"  he  said  to  one  of  his  children,  who  asked  him 
why,  in  the  titlepage  of  his  MS.  volume  of  sermons, 
he  always  wrote  the  date  only  of  its  commencement, 
and  left  a  blank  for  that  of  its  completion,  —  "  to  write 
the  beginning  of  that  sentence,  and  think  that  I  may 
perhaps  not  live  to  finish  it."  And  his  pupils  recol- 
lected the  manner  in  which  he  had  announced  to  them, 
before  morning  prayers,  the  unexpected  death  of  one 
of  their  number  :  "  We  ought  all  to  take  to  ourselves 
these  repeated  warnings ;  God,  in  his  mercy,  sends 
them  to  us.  I  say  in  his  mercy,  because  they  are 
warnings  to  all  of  us  here,  —  we  ought  all  to  feel  them 
as  such,"  —  adding  emphatically,  —  "  and  I  am  sure 
J  feel  it  so  myself." 

Whatever   might   be   the   general   interest  of  this 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  AKNOLD,  D.D.         237 

closing  period,  was  deepened  during  the  last  month 
by  accidental  causes,  into  which  it  is  not  necessary  to 
enter,  but  which  became  the  means  of  drawing  forth 
all  the  natural  tenderness  of  his  character  more  fully 
than  any  previous  passage  of  his  life.  There  was 
something  in  the  added  gentleness  and  kindness  of  his 
whole  manner  and  conversation,  —  watching  himself, 
and  recalling  his  words  if  he  thought  they  would  be 
understood  unkindly,  —  which  even  in  his  more  gen- 
eral intercourse  would  make  almost  every  one  who 
saw  him  at  that  time  connect  their  last  recollections 
of  him  with  some  trait  of  thoughtfulness  for  others, 
and  forgetfulness  of  himself,  and  which,  to  those 
nearest  and  dearest  to  him,  seemed  to  awaken  a  con- 
sciousness, amounting  almost  to  awe,  of  a  visible 
growth  in  those  qualities  which  are  most  naturally  con- 
nected with  the  thought  of  another  world.  There  was 
something  also  in  the  expressions  of  his  own  more  per- 
sonal feelings,  —  few  and  short  as  they  ever  were,  but 
for  that  reason  the  more  impressive  when  they  did 
escape  him,  —  which  stamped  them  with  a  more  than 
usual  solemnity.  Such  were  some  of  the  passages  in  a 
private  diary,  which  he  now  commenced  for  the  first 
time,  but  not  known  till  after  his  death  by  any,  except 
her  who  alone  shared  his  inmost  thoughts,  and  who 
could  not  but  treasure  up  in  her  memory  every  word 
connected  with  the  beginning  of  this  custom.  It  was 
about  three  weeks  before  his  end,  whilst  confined  to  his 
room  for  a  few  days  by  an  attack  of  feverish  illness, 
to  which,  especially  when  in  anxiety,  he  had  always 


238         LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

from  time  to  time  been  liable,  that  he  called  her  to  his 
bedside,  and  expressed  to  her  how,  within  the  last 
few  days,  he  seemed  to  have  "  felt  quite  a  rush  of  love 
in  his  heart  towards  God  and  Christ ;  "  and  how  he 
hoped  that  "  all  this  might  make  him  more  gentle  and 
tender,"  and  that  he  might  not  soon  lose  the  impres- 
sion thus  made  upon  him ;  adding,  that,  as  a  help  to 
keeping  it  alive,  he  intended  to  write  something  in  the 
evenings  before  he  retired  to  rest. 

From  this  diary,  written  the  last  thing  at  night,  not 
daily,  but  from  time  to  time  in  each  week,  it  has  been 
thought  right  to  give  the  following  extracts  :  — 

"  MAY  22.  —  I  am  now  within  a  few  weeks  of  completing  my 
forty-seventh  year.  Am  I  not  old  enough  to  view  life  as  it  is, 
and  to  contemplate  steadily  its  end  —  what  it  is  coming  to,  and 
must  come  to  —  what  all  things  are  without  God  ?  I  know  that 
my  senses  are  on  the  very  eve  of  becoming  weaker,  and  that 
my  faculties  will  then  soon  begin  to  decline  too,  —  whether 
rapidly  or  not,  I  know  not  —  but  they  will  decline.  Is  there 
not  one  faculty  which  never  declines,  which  is  the  seed  and 
the  seal  of  immortality  ?  and  what  has  become  of  that  faculty 
in  me  ?  What  is  it  to  live  unto  God  ?  May  God  open  my  eyes 
to  see  him  by  faith,  in  and  through  his  Son  Jesus  Christ !  may 
he  draw  me  to  him,  and  keep  me  with  him,  making  his  will  my 
will,  his  love  my  love,  his  strength  my  strength !  and  may  he 
make  me  feel  that  pretended  strength,  not  derived  from  him,  is 
no  strength,  but  the  worst  weakness !  May  his  strength  be 
perfected  in  my  weakness! 

"  TUESDAY  EVENING,  MAY  24.  —  Two  days  have  passed,  and 
I  am  mercifully  restored  to  my  health  and  strength.  To-mor- 
row I  hope  to  be  able  to  resume  my  usual  duties.  Now,  then,  is 
the  dangerous  moment.  .  .  .  O  gracious  Father !  keep  me  now 
through  thy  Holy  Spirit ;  keep  my  heart  soft  and  tender  now  in 


LIFE   OF   THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.         239 

health  and  amidst  the  bustle  of  the  world ;  keep  the  thought 
of  thyself  present  to  me  as  my  Father  in  Jesus  Christ;  and 
keep  alive  in  me  a  spirit  of  love  and  meekness  to  all  men,  that 
I  may  be  at  once  gentle  and  active  and  firm.  Oh,  strengthen  me 
to  bear  pain  or  sickness  or  danger,  or  whatever  thou  shalt  be 
pleased  to  lay  upon  me,  as  Christ's  soldier  and  servant!  and 
let  my  faith  overcome  the  world  daily.  Strengthen  my  faith, 
that  I  may  realize  to  my  mind  the  things  eternal,  —  death  and 
things  after  death,  and  thyself.  Oh,  save  me  from  my  sins,  from 
myself,  and  from  my  spiritual  enemy,  and  keep  me  ever  thine 
through  Jesus  Christ!  Lord,  hear  my  prayers  also  for  my 
dearest  wife,  my  dear  children,  my  many  and  kind  friends,  my 
household,  — for  all  those  committed  to  my  care,  and  for  us  to 
whom  they  are  committed :  I  pray  also  for  our  country,  and 
for  thy  holy  Church  in  all  the  world.  Perfect  and  bless  the 
work  of  thy  Spirit  in  the  hearts  of  all  thy  people ;  and  may  thy 
kingdom  come,  and  thy  will  be  done  in  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven ! 
I  pray  for  this,  and  for  all  that  thou  seest  me  to  need,  for 
Jesus  Christ's  sake. 

"WEDNESDAY,  MAY  25.  — Again,  before  I  go  to  rest,  would 
I  commit  myself  to  God's  care,  through  Christ,  beseeching  him 
to  forgive  me  all  my  sins  of  this  day  past,  and  to  keep  alive 
his  grace  in  my  heart,  and  to  cleanse  me  from  all  indolence, 
pride,  harshness,  and  selfishness,  and  to  give  me  the  spirit  of 
meekness,  humility,  firmness,  and  love.  O  Lord !  keep  thyself 
present  to  me  ever,  and  perfect  thy  strength  in  my  weakness. 
Take  me  and  mine  under  thy  blessed  care,  this  night  and  ever- 
more, through  Jesus  Christ. 

"THURSDAY,  MAY  26.  ...  O  Lord!  keep  thyself  present  to 
me  always,  and  teach  me  to  come  to  thee  by  the  One  and  Liv- 
ing Way,  thy  Son  Jesus  Christ.  Keep  me  humble  and  gentle. 
2.  Self-denying.  3.  Firm  and  patient.  4.  Active.  5.  Wise  to 
know  thy  will,  and  to  discern  the  truth.  6.  Loving,  that  I  may 
learn  to  resemble  thee  and  my  Saviour.  O  Lord !  forgive  me 
for  all  my  sins,  and  save  me  and  guide  me  and  strengthen  me 
through  Jesus  Christ. 


240          LIFE    OF   THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

"  MAY  29.  ...  O  Lord !  save  me  from  idle  words,  and  grant 
that  my  heart  may  be  truly  cleansed  and  filled  with  thy  Holy 
Spirit,  and  that  I  may  arise  to  serve  thee,  and  lie  down  to  sleep 
in  entire  confidence  in  thee,  and  submission  to  thy  will,  ready 
for  life  or  for  death.  Let  me  live  for  the  day,  not  over- 
charged with  worldly  cares,  but  feeling  that  my  treasure  is  not 
here,  and  desiring  truly  to  be  joined  to  thee  in  thy  heavenly 
kingdom,  and  to  those  who  are  already  gone  to  thee.  O 
Lord !  let  me  wait  on  patiently ;  but  do  thou  save  me  from 
sin,  and  guide  me  with  thy  Spirit,  and  keep  me  with  thee, 
and  in  faithful  obedience  to  thee,  through  Jesus  Christ  thy 
Son  our  Lord. 

"  MAY  31.  —  Another  day  and  another  month  succeed.  May 
God  keep  my  mind  and  heart  fixed  on  him,  and  cleanse  me 
from  all  sin  !  I  would  wish  to  keep  a  watch  over  my  tongue, 
as  to  vehement  speaking  and  censuring  of  others.  I  would 
desire  to  be  more  thoughtful  of  others,  more  thoughtful  *  ultro ' 
of  my  own  head,  without  the  suggestions  of  others.  I  would 
desire  to  remember  my  latter  end,  to  which  I  am  approaching, 
going  down  the  hill  of  life,  and  having  done  far  more  than  half 
my  work.  May  God  keep  me  in  the  hour  of  death,  through 
Jesus  Christ,  and  preserve  me  from  over  fear,  as  well  as  from 
presumption !  Now,  O  Lord !  whilst  I  am  in  health,  keep  my 
heart  fixed  on  thee  by  faith,  and  then  I  shall  not  lose  thee  in 
sickness  or  in  death.  Guide  and  strengthen  and  enkindle  me, 
and  bless  those  dearest  to  me,  and  those  committed  to  my 
charge,  and  keep  them  thine,  and  guide  and  support  them  in 
thy  holy  ways.  Keep  sin  far  from  them,  O  Lord !  and  let  it 
not  come  upon  them  through  any  neglect  of  mine.  O  Lord ! 
inspire  me  with  zeal,  and  guide  me  with  wisdom,  that  thy  name 
may  be  known  to  those  committed  to  my  care,  and  that 
they  may  be  made  and  kept  always  thine.  Grant  this,  O  Lord  f 
through  Jesus  Christ  my  Saviour,  and  may  my  whole  trust 
towards  thee  be  through  his  merits  and  intercessions ! 

"THURSDAY  EVENING,  JUNE  2.  —  Again  the  day  is  over, 
and  I  am  going  to  rest.  O  Lord !  preserve  me  this  night,  and 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          24! 

strengthen  me  to  bear  whatever  thou  shalt  see  fit  to  lay  on  me, 
whether  pain,  sickness,  danger,  or  distress. 

"SUNDAY,  JUNE  5.  —  I  have  been  just  looking  over  a  news- 
paper, one  of  the  most  painful  and  solemn  studies  in  the  world 
if  it  be  read  thoughtfully.  So  much  of  sin  and  so  much  of  suf- 
fering in  the  world,  as  are  there  displayed,  and  no  one  seems 
able  to  remedy  either.  And  then  the  thought  of  my  own  pri- 
vate life,  so  full  of  comforts,  is  very  startling  when  I  contrast 
it  with  the  lot  of  millions,  whose  portion  is  so  full  of  distress 
or  of  trouble.  May  I  be  kept  humble  and  zealous,  and  may 
God  give  me  grace  to  labor  in  my  generation  for  the  good  of 
my  brethren,  and  for  his  glory  !  May  he  keep  me  his  by  night 
and  by  day,  and  strengthen  me  to  bear  and  to  do  his  will,  through 
Jesus  Christ !  " 

[LAST  DAY,  JUNE  u.] 

On  Saturday  morning  he  was  busily  employed  in 
examining  some  of  the  boys  in  Ranke's  "  History  of  the 
Popes,"  in  the  preparation  of  which  he  had  sat  up  late 
on  the  previous  night ;  and  some  of  the  answers  which 
had  pleased  him  he  recounted  with  great  interest  at 
breakfast.  The  chief  part  of  the  day  he  was  engaged 
in  finishing  the  business  of  the  school,  not  accepting 
proffered  assistance,  even  in  the  mechanical  details,  but 
going  through  the  whole  work  himself.  He  went  his- 
usual  round  of  the  school  to  distribute  the  prizes  to 
the  boys  before  their  final  dispersion,  and  to  take 
leave  of  those  who  were  not  returning  after  the  holi- 
days. "One  more -lesson,"  he  had  said  to  his  own 
form  on  the  previous  evening,  "  I  shall  have  with  you 
on  Sunday  afternoon,  and  then  I  will  say  to  you  what 
I  have  to  say."  That  parting  address  to  which  they 
were  always  accustomed  to  look  forward  with  such 


242         LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

pleasure,  never  came.  But  it  is  not  to  be  wondered 
at,  if  they  remarked  with  peculiar  interest,  that  the 
last  subject  which  he  had  set  them  for  an  exercise  was 
"  Domus  Ultima ;  "  that  the  last  translation  for  Latin 
verses  was  from  the  touching  lines  on  the  death  of  Sir 
Philip  Sidney,  in  Spenser's  "  Ruins  of  Time ;  "  that 
the  last  words  with  which  he  closed  his  last  lecture  on 
the  New  Testament  were  in  commenting  on  the  pas- 
sage of  St.  John,  "  It  doth  not  yet  appear  what  we 
shall  be  :  but  we  know  that,  when  he  shall  appear,  we 
shall  be  like  him;  for  we  shall  see  him  as  he  is."  — 
"  So,  too,"  he  said,  "  in  the  Corinthians,  '  For  now  we 
see  through  a  glass  darkly,  but  then  face  to  face/  — 
Yes,"  he  added,  with  marked  fervency,  "the  mere 
contemplation  of  Christ  shall  transform  us  into  his 
likeness." 

In  the  afternoon  he  took  his  ordinary  walk  and  bathe, 
enjoying  the  rare  beauty  of  the  day ;  and  he  stopped 
again  and  again  to  look  up  into  the  unclouded  blue  of 
the  summer  sky,  "  the  blue  depth  of  ether  "  which  had 
been  at  all  times  one  of  his  most  favorite  images  in 
nature,  "  conveying,"  as  he  said,  "  ideas  so  much  more 
.  beautiful,  as  well  as  more  true,  than  the  ancient  con- 
ceptions of  the  heavens  as  an  iron  firmament."  At 
dinner  he  was  in  high  spirits,  talking  with  his  several 
guests  on  subjects  of  social  or  historical  interest,  and 
recurring  with  great  pleasure  to  his  early  geological 
studies,  and  describing  with  much  interest  his  recent 
visit  to  Naseby  with  Carlyle,  "  its  position  on  some  of 
the  highest  table  land  in  England,  — the  streams  falling 


LIFE    OF   THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          243 

on  the  one  side  into  the  Atlantic,  on  the  other  into  the 
German  Ocean,  —  far  away,  too,  from  any  town,  — 
Market  Harborough,  the  nearest,  into  which  the  Cava- 
liers were  chased,  late  in  the  long  summer  evening, 
on  the  fourteenth  of  June,  you  know." 

In  the  evening  he  took  a  short  stroll,  as  usual,  on 
the  lawn  in  the  further  garden,  with  the  friend,  and 
former  pupil,  from  whom  the  account  of  these  last  con- 
versations has  been  chiefly  derived.  His  conversa- 
tion with  him  turned  on  some  points  in  the  school  of 
Oxford  Theology,  in  regard  to  which  he  thought  him 
to  be  in  error :  particularly  he  dwelt  seriously,  but 
kindly,  on  what  he  conceived  to  be  false  notions  of  the 
Eucharist,  —  insisting  especially,  that  our  Lord  forbids 
us  to  suppose  that  the  highest  spiritual  blessings  can 
be  conferred  only  or  chiefly  through  the  reception  of 
material  elements,  —  urging  with  great  earnestness, 
when  it  was  said  that  there  might  be  various  modes  of 
spiritual  agency,  "  My  dear  Lake,  God  be  praised,  we 
are  told  the  great  mode  by  which  we  are  affected,  — 
we  have  his  own  blessed  assurance,  '  The  words  which 
I  speak  unto  you,  they  are  spirit,  and  they  are  life.'  " 

At  nine  o'clock  was  a  supper,  which,  on  the  last 
evening  of  the  summer  half-year,  he  gave  to  the  Sixth- 
Form  boys  of  his  own  house ;  and  they  were  struck 
with  the  cheerfulness  and  liveliness  of  his  manner,  talk- 
ing of  the  end  of  the  half-year,  and  the  pleasure  of  his 
return  to  Fox  How  in  the  next  week,  and  observing, 
in  allusion  to  the  departure  of  so  many  of  the  boys, 
"  How  strange  the  chapel  will  look  to-morrow  !  " 


244         LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D 

The  school  business  was  now  completely  over.  The 
old  schoolhouse  servant,  who  had  been  about  the  place 
many  years,  came  to  receive  the  final  accounts,  and 
delighted  afterwards  to  tell  how  his  master  had  kept 
him  a  quarter  of  an  hour  talking  to  him  with  more 
than  usual  kindness  and  confidence. 

One  more  act,  the  last  before  he  retired  that  night, 
remains  to  be  recorded,  —  the  last  entry  in  his  diary, 
which  was  not  known  or  seen  till  the  next  morning, 
when  it  was  discovered  by  those  to  whom  every  word 
bore  a  weight  and  meaning  which  he  who  wrote  it  had 
but  little  anticipated. 

"  SATURDAY  EVENING,  JUNE  1 1.  —  The  day  after  to-morrow 
is  my  birthday,  if  I  am  permitted  to  live  to  see  it,  —  my  forty- 
seventh  birthday  since  my  birth.  How  large  a  portion  of  my 
life  on  earth  is  already  passed !  And  then  — what  is  to  follow 
this  life?  How  visibly  my  outward  work  seems  contracting 
and  softening  away  into  the  gentler  employments  of  old  age. 
In  one  sense,  how  nearly  can  I  now  say,  *  Vixi.'  And  I  thank 
God,  that,  as  far  as  ambition  is  concerned,  it  is,  I  trust,  fully 
mortified :  I  have  no  desire  other  than  to  step  back  from  my 
present  place  in  the  world,  and  not  to  rise  to  a  higher.  Still, 
there  are  works,  which,  with  God's  permission,  I  would  do 
before  the  night  cometh,  —  especially  that  great  work,  if  I  might 
be  permitted  to  take  part  in  it.  But  above  all,  let  me  mind  my 
own  personal  work,  —  to  keep  myself  pure  and  zealous  and 
believing,  —  laboring  to  do  God's  will,  yet  not  anxious  that  it 
should  be  done  by  me  rather  than  by  others,  if  God  disapproves 
of  my  doing  it." 

It  was  between  five  and  six  o'clock  on  Sunday 
morning  that  he  awoke  with  a  sharp  pain  across  his 


LIFE   OF   THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          245 

chest,  which  he  mentioned  to  his  wife,  on  her  asking 
whether  he  felt  well,  —  adding  that  he  had  felt  it 
slightly  on  the  preceding  day,  before  and  after  bathing. 
He  then  again  composed  himself  to  sleep  :  but  her 
watchful  care,  always  anxious,  even  to  nervousness,  at 
the  least  indication  of  illness,  was  at  once  awakened ; 
and  on  finding  from  him  that  the  pain  increased,  and 
that  it  seemed  to  pass  from  his  chest  to  his  left  arm, 
her  alarm  was  so  much  aroused  from  a  remembrance 
of  having  heard  of  this  in  connection  with  angina  pec- 
toris,  and  its  fatal  consequences,  that,  in  spite  of  his 
remonstrances,  she  rose,  and  called  up  an  old  servant, 
whom  they  usually  consulted  in  cases  of  illness,  from 
her  having  so  long  attended  the  sick-bed  of  his  sister 
Susannah.  Re-assured  by  her  confidence  that  there 
was  no  ground  for  fear,  but  still  anxious,  Mrs.  Arnold 
returned  to  his  room.  She  observed  him,  as  she  was 
dressing  herself,  lying  still,  but  with  his  hands  clasped, 
his  lips  moving,  and  his  eyes  raised  upwards,  as  if 
engaged  in  prayer,  when  all  at  once  he  repeated,  firmly 
and  earnestly,  "  And  Jesus  said  unto  him,  Thomas, 
because  thou  hast  seen,  thou  hast  believed  :  blessed  are 
they  who  have  not  seen,  and  yet  have  believed  ;  "  and 
soon  afterwards,  with  a  solemnity  of  manner  and  depth 
of  utterance  which  spoke  more  than  the  words  them- 
selves, "  But  if  ye  be  without  chastisement,  whereof  all 
are  partakers,  then  are  ye  bastards,  and  not  sons." 

From  time  to  time  he  seemed  to  be  in  severe  suf- 
fering, and,  on  the  entrance  of  the  old  servant  before 
mentioned,  said,  "  Ah,  Elizabeth  !  if  I  had  been  as 


246         LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

much  accustomed  to  pain  as  dear  Susannah  was,  I 
should  bear  it  better."  To  his  wife,  however,  he 
uttered  no  expressions  of  acute  pain,  dwelling  only  on 
the  moments  of  comparative  ease,  and  observing  that 
he  did  not  know  what  it  was.  But  the  more  than 
usual  earnestness  which  marked  his  tone  and  manner, 
especially  in  repeating  the  verses  from  Scripture,  had 
again  aroused  her  worst  fears ;  and  she  ordered  mes- 
sengers to  be  sent  for  medical  assistance,  which  he 
had  at  first  requested  her  not  to  do,  from  not  liking  to 
disturb  at  that  early  hour  the  usual  medical  attendant, 
who  had  been  suffering  from  indisposition.  She  then 
took  up  the  Prayer  Book,  and  was  looking  for  a  Psalm 
to  read  to  him,  when  he  said  quickly,  "  The  fifty- first," 
—  which  she  accordingly  read  by  his  bedside,  remind- 
ing him,  at  the  seventh  verse,  that  it  was  the  favorite 
verse  of  one  of  the  old  almswomen  whom  he  was  in 
the  habit  of  visiting ;  and  at  the  twelfth  verse,  "  O  give 
me  the  comfort  of  thy  help  again,  and  stablish  me 
with  thy  free  Spirit :  "  he  repeated  it  after  her  very 
earnestly.  She  then  read  the  prayer  in  the  "  Visitation 
of  the  Sick,"  beginning,  "The  Almighty  Lord,  who  is 
a  most  strong  tower,"  etc.,  kneeling  herself  at  the  foot 
of  .the  bed,  and  altering  it  into  a  common  prayer  for 
them  both. 

As  the  clock  struck  a  quarter  to  seven,  Dr.  Bucknill 
(the  son  of  the  usual  medical  attendant)  entered  the 
room.  He  was  then  lying  on  his  back,  his  counte- 
nance much  as  usual ;  his  pulse,  though  regular,  was 
very  quick ;  and  there  was  cold  perspiration  on  the  brow 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          247 

and  cheeks.  But  his  tone  was  cheerful.  "  How  is 
your  father?"  he  asked,  on  the  physician's  entrance  : 
"  I  am  sorry  to  disturb  you  so  early :  I  knew  that 
your  father  was  unwell,  and  that  you  had  enough  to 
do."  He  described  the  pain,  speaking  of  it  as  having 
been  very  severe,  and  then  said,  "  What  is  it?  "  Whilst 
the  physician  was  pausing  for  a  moment  before  he 
replied,  the  pain  returned,  and  remedies  were  applied 
till  it  passed  away ;  and  Mrs.  Arnold,  seeing  by  the 
measures  used  that  the  medical  man  was  himself 
alarmed,  left  the  room  for  a  few  moments  to  call  up 
her  second  son,  the  eldest  of  the  family  then  at  Rugby, 
and  impart  her  anxiety  to  him  ;  and  during  her  absence 
her  husband  again  asked  what  it  was,  and  was  answered 
that  it  was  spasm  of  the  heart.  He  exclaimed,  in 
his  peculiar  manner  of  recognition,  "  Ha  ! "  and  then, 
on  being  asked  if  he  had  ever  in  his  life  fainted,  "  No, 
never."  If  he  had  ever  had  difficulty  of  breathing? 
"  No,  never."  If  he  had  ever  had  sharp  pain  in  the 
chest?  "No,  never."  If  any  of  his  family  had  ever 
had  disease  of  the  chest  ?  "  Yes,  my  father  had  — 
he  died  of  it."  —  "  What  age  was  he  ?"  —  "  Fifty- three." 
-"Was  it  suddenly  fatal ?"  — " Yes,  suddenly  fatal." 
He  then  asked  if  disease  of  the  heart  was  a  common 
disease  ?  "  Not  very  common."  —  "  Where  do  we  find 
it  most?"  — "In  large  towns,  I  think."  — "Why?  " 
(Two  or  three  causes  were  mentioned.)  "  Is  it  gen- 
erally fatal? "  —  "Yes,  I  am  afraid  it  is." 

The  physician  then  quitted  the  house  for  medicine, 
leaving  Mrs.  Arnold,  now  fully  aware  from  him  of  hei 


248          LIFE    OF   THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

husband's  state.  At  this  moment  she  was  joined  by 
her  son,  who  entered  the  room  with  no  serious  appre- 
hension ;  and,  on  his  coming  up  to  the  bed,  his  father, 
with  his  usual  gladness  of  expression  towards  him, 
asked,  "How  is  your  deafness,  my  boy?"  (he  had 
been  suffering  from  it  the  night  before)  ;  and  then, 
playfully  alluding  to  an  old  accusation  against  him, 
"You  must  not  stay  here  :  you  know  you  do  not  like  a 
sick-room."  He  then  sat  down  with  his  mother  at  the 
foot  of  the  bed ;  and  presently  his  father  said  in  a  low 
voice,  "  My  son,  thank  God  for  me  ! "  and,  as  his  son 
did  not  at  once  catch  his  meaning,  he  went  on,  saying, 
"  Thank  God,  Tom,  for  giving  me  this  pain.  I  have 
suffered  so  little  pain  in  my  life,  that  I  feel  it  is  very 
good  for  me  :  now  God  has  given  it  to  me,  and  I  do 
so  thank  him  for  it."  And  again,  after  a  pause,  he 
said,  —  alluding  to  a  wish  which  his  son  had  often 
heard  him  express,  that,  if  he  ever  had  to  suffer  pain, 
his  faculties  might  be  unaffected  by  it,  —  "  How  thank- 
ful I  am  that  my  head  is  untouched."  Meanwhile  his 
wife,  who  still  had  sounding  in  her  ears  the  tone  in 
which  he  had  repeated  the  passage  from  the  Epistle  to 
the  Hebrews,  again  turned  to  the  Prayer  Book,  and 
began  to  read  the  Exhortation  in  which  it  occurs  in 
the  "  Visitation  of  the  Sick."  He  listened  with  deep 
attention,  saying  emphatically,  "Yes,"  at  the  end  of 
many  of  the  sentences.  "  There  should  be  no  greater 
comfort  to  Christian  persons  than  to  be  made  like  unto 
Christ."  —  "Yes."  —  "By  suffering  patiently  troubles, 
adversities,  and  sickness."  —  "  Yes."  —  "  He  entered 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.         249 

not  into  his  glory  before  he  was  crucified."  —  "Yes." 
At  the  words,  "  everlasting  life,"  she  stopped ;  and  his 
son  said,  "  I  wish,  dear  papa,  we  had  you  at  Fox 
How."  He  made  no  answer ;  but  the  last  conscious 
look,  which  remained  fixed  in  his  wife's  memory,  was 
the  look  of  intense  tenderness  and  love  with  which  he 
smiled  upon  them  both  at  that  moment. 

The  physician  now  returned  with  the  medicines, 
and  the  former  remedies  were  applied :  there  was  a 
slight  return  of  the  spasms,  after  which  he  said,  "  If 
the  pain  is  again  as  severe  as  it  was  before  you  came, 
I  do  not  know  how  I  can  bear  it."  He  then,  with 
his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  physician,  who  rather  felt  than 
saw  them  upon  him,  so  as  to  make  it  impossible  not 
to  answer  the  exact  truth,  repeated  one  or  two  of  his 
former  questions  about  the  cause  of  the  disease,  and 
ended  with  asking,  "Is  it  likely  to  return?"  and,  on 
being  told  that  it  was,  "  Is  it  generally  suddenly  fatal?  " 
— "  Generally."  On  being  asked  whether  he  had  any 
pain,  he  replied  that  he  had  none,  but  from  the  mus- 
tard plaster  on  his  chest,  with  a  remark  on  the  severity 
of  the  spasms  in  comparison  with  this  outward  pain, 
and  then,  a  few  moments  afterwards,  inquired  what 
medicine  was  to  be  given,  and  on  being  told,  answered, 
"Ah  !  very  well."  The  physician,  who  was  dropping 
the  laudanum  into  a  glass,  turned  round,  and  saw  him 
looking  quite  calm,  but  with  his  eyes  shut.  In  another 
minute  he  heard  a  rattle  in  the  throat,  and  a  convulsive 
struggle,  —  flew  to  the  bed,  caught  his  head  upon  his 
shoulder,  and  called  to  one  of  the  servants  to  fetch 


250          LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

Mrs.  Arnold.  She  had  but  just  left  the  room  before  his 
last  conversation  with  the  physician,  in  order  to  ac- 
quaint her  son  with  his  father's  danger,  of  which  he 
was  still  unconscious,  when  she  heard  herself  called 
from  above.  She  rushed  up-stairs,  told  her  son  to 
bring  the  rest  of  the  children,  and  with  her  own  hands 
applied  the  remedies  that  were  brought,  in  the  hope  of 
reviving  animation,  though  herself  feeling,  from  the 
moment  that  she  saw  him,  that  he  had  already  passed 
away.  He  was  indeed  no  longer  conscious.  The 
sobs  and  cries  of  his  children,  as  they  entered  and  saw 
their  father's  state,  made  no  impression  upon  him : 
the  eyes  were  fixed ;  the  countenance  was  unmoved ; 
there  was  a  heaving  of  the  chest ;  deep  gasps  escaped 
at  prolonged  intervals ;  and  just  as  the  usual  medical 
attendant  arrived,  and  as  the  old  schoolhouse  servant, 
in  an  agony  of  grief,  rushed  with  the  others  into  the 
room,  in  the  hope  of  seeing  his  master  once  more, 
he  breathed  his  last. 

It  must  have  been  shortly  before  eight  A.M.  that  he 
expired,  though  it  was  naturally  impossible  for  those 
who  were  present  to  adjust  their  recollections  of  what 
passed  with  precise  exactness  of  time  or  place.  So 
short  and  sudden  had  been  the  seizure,  that  hardly  any 
one  out  of  the  household  itself  had  heard  of  his  illness 
before  its  fatal  close.  His  guest,  and  former  pupil 
(who  had  slept  in  a  remote  part  of  the  house),  was 
coming  down  to  breakfast  as  usual,  thinking  of  ques- 
tions to  which  the  conversation  of  the  preceding  night 
had  given  rise,  and  which,  by  the  great  kindness  of 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D.          2$  I 

his  manner,  he  felt  doubly  encouraged  to  ask  him,,, 
when  he  was  met  on  the  staircase  by  the  announce- 
ment of  his  death.  The  masters  knew  nothing  till  the 
moment  when,  almost  at  the  same  time  at  the  different 
boarding-houses,  the  fatal  message  was  delivered  in  all 
its  startling  abruptness,  "  that  Dr.  Arnold  was  dead." 
What  that  Sunday  was  in  Rugby  it  is  hard  fully  to  rep- 
resent, —  the  incredulity,  the  bewilderment,  the  agitat- 
ing inquiries  for  every  detail ;  the  blank,  more  awful 
than  sorrow,  that  prevailed  through  the  vacant  services 
of  that  long  and  dreary  day ;  the  feeling  as  if  the  very 
place  had  passed  away  with  him  who  had  so  emphati- 
cally been  in  every  sense  its  head;  the  sympathy 
which  hardly  dared  to  contemplate,  and  which  yet 
could  not  but  fix  the  thoughts  and  looks  of  all  on  the 
desolate  house,  where  the  fatherless  family  were  gath- 
ered round  the  chamber  of  death. 

Five  of  his  children  were  awaiting  their  father's  arri- 
val at  Fox  How.  To  them  the  news  was  brought  on 
Monday  morning,  by  the  same  pupil  who  had  been  in 
the  house  at  his  death,  and  who  long  would  remember 
the  hour  when  he  reached  the  place,  just  as  the  early 
summer  dawn  —  the  dawn  of  that  forty-seventh  birth- 
day—  was  breaking  over  that  beautiful  valley,  every 
shrub  and  every  flower  in  all  its  freshness  and  luxuri- 
ance, speaking  of  him  who  had  so  tenderly  fostered 
their  growth  around  the  destined  home  of  his  old  age. 
On  the  evening  of  that  day,  which  they  had  been  fondly 
preparing  to  celebrate  with  its  usual  pleasures,  they  ar- 
rived at  Rugby  in  time  to  see  their  father's  face  in  death.. 


252          LIFE   OF  THOMAS  ARNOLD,   D.D. 

He  was  buried  on  the  following  Friday,  the  very 
day  week,  since,  from  the  same  house,  two  and  two  in 
like  manner,  so  many  of  those  who  now  joined  in  the 
funeral  procession  to  the  chapel,  had  followed  him  in 
full  health  and  vigor  to  the  public  speeches  in  the 
school.  It  was  attended  by  his  whole  family,  by  those 
of  his  friends  and  former  pupils  who  had  assembled 
from  various  parts  during  the  week,  and  by  many  of 
the  neighboring  clergy  and  of  the  inhabitants  of  the 
town,  both  rich  and  poor.  The  ceremony  was  per- 
formed by  Mr.  Moultrie,  rector  of  Rugby,  from  that 
place  which,  for  fourteen  years,  had  been  occupied 
only  by  him  who  was  gone,  and  to  whom  every  part 
of  that  chapel  owed  its  peculiar  interest;  and  his 
remains  were  deposited  in  the  chancel  immediately 
under  the  communion-table. 

Once  more  his  family  met  in  the  chapel  on  the  fol- 
lowing Sunday,  and  partook  of  the  holy  communion 
at  his  grave,  and  heard  read  the  sermon  preached  by 
'••him  in  the  preceding  year,  on  "  Faith  Triumphant  in 
Death."  And  yet  one  more  service  in  connection  with 
him  took  place  in  the  chapel,  when,  on  the  first  Sun- 
day of  the  next  half-year,  the  school,  which  had  dis- 
persed on  the  eve  of  his  death,  assembled  again  within 
its  walls  under  his  successor,  and  witnessed  in  the 
funeral  services  with  which  that  day  was  observed,  the 
last  public  tribute  of  sorrow  to  their  departed  master. 


UHIVER3IT7 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  BATE 
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AN     INITIAL     FINE     OF    25     CENTS 

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THIS  BOOK  ON  THE  DATE  DUE.  THE  PENALTY 
WILL  INCREASE  TO  SO  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
DAY  AND  TO  $1.OO  ON  THE  SEVENTH  DAY 
OVERDUE. 


29 


JUL2219? 


NOV    8 195 


1863 


LD  21-50»n-8f-32 


YB  04575 


